The Truth that a Closet can Reveal
by Aloemilk
Summary: A funny and lucky accident that changes everything; some angst. But then... He smiled, and decided to change tactics. “Guess I'll show you instead,” he said with a husky voice. “Just pay attention, Bones. Pay careful attention.” NOW COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

**Ok! So here it goes, my first attempt at writing a multichapter. I really hope you have at least as much fun reading it as I've had writing it.**

**I'm not sure how long it'll finally be, it depends a bit on response (I'm sure you know by now how great reviews are...right?), ideas and inspirations, but I can see at least a few more chapters. Next one should be up shortly.**

**Before I leave you to our favorite characters, I'd like to thank **_**Bailadora**_** and **_**SherlockBones**_** for their wonderful help. Really, you've been great :D**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

He sat in Brennan's office, waiting for them to ID the last corpse they'd found. Not that he really needed it this time; he was quite sure of whom it was, but having and official ID would help him.

He needed help urgently in this case.

"These guys think they're doing it great," he mumbled, crunching the foam zumo figure hard in his hand.

He had to find something that would prove his gut right. He couldn't fill any of the forms the Bureau requested of him saying he could _feel_ these guys were the perpetrators of these horrible crimes. Just as he _felt_ he just had to probe a bit more—just a bit more—and he'd find what he needed.

"Well. Probing means Plan B," he mumbled again.

"What?" Brennan had barely caught what he'd said as she entered her office.

"We got our ID yet?"

"Yes. You were right." And she still wondered how he'd done it. "Don't brag. What were you saying?"

"I need a Plan B, Bones. These guys think they're clever, but they just don't know us," he said, punctuating his words with a finger to the air.

She sat at her desk and looked at him as he left the zumo figurine on the coffee table in front of him. "They _are_ clever, Booth. Otherwise they would have already been caught, or you'd have further evidence by now." The look he sent her, a mixture of hurt and anger, made her feel a little guilty. Not that she'd say that out loud. After all, she was merely stating a fact. "Don't get me wrong. I also think we're cleverer than them."

"Thank you," he said distinctly. "I like to think so myself." He stood up and walked to his jacket, having made a decision about what he was going to do. "So, I'll go now and get into their place and see if I can get something. See ya later!" He tried to be nonchalant. He did try. He even thought that, if he walked away fast enough, she'd just stay in her office.

"What?!" she asked suprised and excited, going after him. "I'm going with you!"

He turned and walked backwards. "No, you're not. But if you wanna help, check on the weapons used on the body. It may be mighty useful." He turned again, saying loudly so the sound would carry to her, as he was sure he was leaving her behind, "Thank you, Bones. I'll let you know how this little thing goes".

* * *

He'd waited a while before even getting out of the car, watching for movement in or near the house. Then, he'd checked through the windows, making sure it was deserted. Of course, it didn't mean no one would come once he was inside the house, but it'd be worse if he hadn't checked and suddenly found himself face to face with someone.

Now he was kneeling in front of the back door, trying to force the lock open.

"Would you like some help?" his partner asked. He hadn't been able to convince her to remain in the lab; she'd stubbornly insisted on going with him, using inventive—though she'd called it logical—arguments.

"Of course I would. Please make sure no one's coming around, and I'll—" the door opened "—have this door opened instantly." He smiled at her.

"Ok, where do we go now? What do we do?" she asked loudly. She was enjoying this, and though he didn't quite approve, he couldn't help enjoying her reaction. That didn't mean he'd let her ruin the operation.

"Shh! We don't want to be heard, remember?" he scolded her, his voice low, trying to make her get the message.

"I still don't understand," she said mimicking his tone. "You could have gotten a warrant and been done with it, why are we breaking in instead?"

"It's not a break in, ok? And we're doing it this way 'cause I don't want them to know we're after them, that's why, Bones. Now, please be quiet. Stay behind, follow me close, all right?"

"Yeah," she said, standing right next to him.

He made an exasperated face, took her by the arm, and forced her behind him.

He'd been in the house before, interviewing suspects who didn't know they were considered as such. He passed the desks that filled almost every space available in an orderly way, now strangely empty.That first time, every single one of them had been occupied, everyone making calls or half hidden behind a computer screen. The difference was as palpable as a fist.

He went upstairs, dividing his attention between searching the house and making sure Bones didn't risk herself or the operation. He quickly looked in the other rooms in the floor. Here, the spaces allowed for more room, with just the necessary furniture to decorate. The offices followed the same rules here, trying to make the hierarchy obvious. It was a nice distribution of things if you were to enter by the main door, which they hadn't. Leaving that behind, he just tried to guess where else they could look for evidence if they had the time.

They reached the main office. As he got close to the desk, he saw Bones rest against the wall.

"You know, this isn't as much fun as I thought it'd be, at least once the adrenaline rush begins to diminish."

He rolled his eyes. "If you wanted fun, Bones, you could have thought of bringing some Anthropology Journal and use it to—"

First, he felt them. That alone would have sufficed to know someone was close. Then he heard them.

"What? What?" She saw his reaction, the way his body tensed all of a sudden, and knew something wasn't right.

"Shh." He mimicked with his hand, looking around frantically. He saw a door and led Brennan that way, knowing they had to hide or the whole operation—he wouldn't be calling it a breaking in—would be a complete failure.

He could hear someone climbing the stairs. He had to be quick. He didn't have time to think, he had to act and act now.

He opened the door, tossed Brennan in with one hand and went in himself, closing the door right behind him in one single motion. He barely heard Brennan whisper, kind of panicked "Don't close the door! There's no handle on the inside!"

Too late.

"We'll worry 'bout that later, ok? Now be quiet, please, Bones!"

He tried to concentrate in whatever he could hear coming from the other side of the door. He knew Brennan was really close, but he couldn't think of that right now.

"Booth."

"Shh!"

"We're..."

"Later, Bones, ok?"

Yep. They were very close. He could feel Brennan's breath on his face. And parts of her were—no, he couldn't think of that now. He had to know if they were in any danger of being discovered... He had to be ready in case he needed to take his gun out quickly.

He heard steps coming near. His senses were catching every little stimulation: the smell of dust and moth, underlined by what he could only guess had to be Bones's own smell. _You can't think about that_. The pressure of walls against his body. _This is a really small place I got us into_. Bones body plastered against his. _Can't think about that either_. The sound of her breathing. _Nope, what about those steps?_ He tried to make out the pattern, and realized that whoever was in the room—a single set of steps—had walked to the desk and was doing something there. He heard some clicks, something that sounded as... yeah, the guy must have been opening the desk drawers. A shuffling sound... looking for papers.

"Are you ready?!" someone yelled from the first floor.

"Yeah, found it! Let me close this—" came the reply from very close.

"Forget it, let's go! We're late!"

"OK, I'm going!" he yelled. "Bastard," he added quietly.

Booth could hear the steps going down the stairs and then it all went deadly silent.

He let the air he just realised he had been holding out. And took it all in again as he looked at—rather tried to look at Brennan—for there was almost no light. Not that he needed any. There was nothing else that could have taken his attention away from the feeling of her, all of her, pressed right in front of him.

"Can I talk now, Booth?" she sarcastically asked.

"Err...yes," he said hesitantly.

Their faces were just a couple inches apart. Couldn't be otherwise, given the circumstances.

"We're trapped. I tried to tell you."

"Well, I'm sorry that I had more pressing matters in mind, Bones. Like saving us from being discovered."

"I understand that. What I don't understand is why you had to choose the smallest closet available in the house!"

"Yeah, right. Like I knew this was this small! I saw a door and thought it might be a good hiding place, that's all"

"Oh, of course." She added, "And you didn't have the time to check that we could get out of it, either?"

"What do you mean? It's all about—" She didn't notice, but he opened his eyes in terror. He had just remembered what she had been saying while he was closing the door behind him. _There's no handle on the inside_. "Oh," he said, implying in that simple sound he'd just realised what they were into.

He tried to move his hand to his back and search for a handle. The movement, he was quick to notice, made him rub himself against his partner's body. _God_, he thought. _This is not the time_.

"What are you doing?" she asked, quite breathless. She had felt the rubbing, too.

"Why, Bones, I'm trying to get us out of here."

"And how are you going to do that?"

"Looking for a handle, of course. There must be one."

The feeling of their bodies rubbing was really disturbing, and there was no way of escaping it. He tried not to look at her, but that meant that he could feel her breath in his neck when she spoke.

"I told you there's no handle, Booth. You better try to break down the door". She was feeling...concerned. That's how she felt. She was concerned they weren't getting out of there quickly. That was why her heart was beating faster and her breath was coming shorter; and why his was coming shorter as well.

"There's no room for that, Bones! Can't you see this is some sort of cleaning... stuff... closet... of sorts?"

"No, I can't see that, 'cause there's no light. Just as there's no handle. This is obviously where they're meant to keep things like brooms and such. Though there's nothing like that in here. I doubt they even remembered this closet was here."

"Well, I guess they just aren't the cleaning type," he said, giving up on the handle. There wasn't one. "Ok, let me think."

"No handle, I told you"

"Let me think, Bones!" _Ok. There must be a way out. I can't keep this up. Let's just say I want to keep it down. We can't stay here, like this. God, I must THINK! And not about the situation, but of how to get out of it. This is the time to pray, to remember about nuns and poverty. And famish. I am famished. I am just about to_—_no, no. That's not helping me and_— "What are you doing, Bones?!" He asked, this time quite scared. She was rubbing herself against him now, in what appeared to be a quest to find something. Not that knowing that helped him.

"I'm trying to get my cell phone. We might call someone to come and rescue us."

"Please, there must be a non-embarrassing way out" he put his arms one on each side of her, trying to force the door open. Not that the movement did him any good.

"Don't move! I can barely hold my—" He heard something fall to the floor. "My cell phone. Great job, Booth! Now I have to try to get it—" She squirmed, trying to reach the floor. _Oh, God, oh God_, he thought. _I need the blood in my BRAIN, for God's sake. I need to THINK_. _Don't do this to me_. "—from the floor."

"You know what," he said, taking her arms and trying to keep her up. He knew his voice sounded weird, what with being almost breathless, but he couldn't help it. "Forget it. Forget your cell phone."

"We need to get out of here, Booth! Tell me, how are we supposed to get out? Do you suggest we wait 'til office hours tomorrow so that the people working here will take us out?" She started touching his waist.

"Hey! What are you doing?" _In God's name, stop that!_

"Well, clearly I'm trying to get your cell phone, just try not to make me lose it this time. How else are we supposed to get out? I insist, the most logical answer is—oh."

She'd noticed. He knew she'd noticed. He only hoped that being this mortified would stop him from embarrassing himself any more.

_Ok, what do I__ do now?_ She thought. She remained perfectly still, which made her brain focus on the stimulation rather than denying it. She had to concentrate on something else. She could hear him breathing deeply and slowly, noticeably trying to control himself.

"Just... just don't say anything, ok? Not now, not ever," he said.

She couldn't just accept the situation and leave it be. She'd never felt awkward before when facing a man's reaction to her, but this time it was different. It was Booth. She had to use her best weapon against confusion. "It's a normal bodily function, Booth, you shouldn't be embarrassed. It's an anthropological inevitability. You're a healthy male, it's obvious that you're going to respond--"

"Just be quite, ok, Bones?"

"But it is! It's obvious you're going to respond this way. Me, I find myself responding to the situation as well, it's logical! Your body frame and your pheromones are—"

Suddenly, he put his arms one on each side of her head again, but this time he pushed with such strength that he finally broke down the door.

They tumbled to the floor. Not one second after hitting it, he was already standing up, taking her hand and helping her up.

They stared at each other for a moment.

"Just... just get your cell phone and let's get the hell out of here.'

He reached for the desk, took all the papers left on it and walked fast and heavily for the stairs.


	2. Chapter 2

**Here's the second chapter of this story. Please review and let me know what you're thinking, what seems right and what seems wrong. Is it believable? Is it intriguing? ****You have an idea that you think could improve this story? Anything you want, I'll be glad to receive them! It helps me get better at this hobbie of mine )**

**Last but not least, thanks to my Betas again: **_**SherlockBones**_** and **_**Bailadora**_**!**

* * *

Angela didn't need more than a glance at Brennan entering the lab to know something had happened to her. She followed her to her office, getting in just as her friend was sitting at her desk. She stood right in front of her, hands on hips, one brow raised.

"Talk. I want every little detail. I'm sure it's about a man, I can see it in your face".

"I don't know what you're talking about".

"Bren..." She put on her know-it-all, I-can-read-people's-minds face. "It's me you're talking with. You should know by now you can't fool me."

Brennan held her eyes for a moment, trying to decide what to do.

"Ok, I know I shouldn't be talking this with you, but I don't see any other way around it," she said to Angela.

"If I didn't know you, I'd be hurt. What can be so confusing and amazingly unexpected that you can't talk it out with me? It's guys we're talking about, and once you know one of them you know most of them."

_M__ost of them,_ she thought_. Not all of them_.

"That's not biologically possible, Ange. We are all made by a statistically unrepeatable mixture of DNA, its genes activated by ambient and society which makes each of us a different person."

"Oh, no. Now I'm worrying. You go scientific on me, it's 'cause something's really bothering you." She let herself fall to one of the chairs opposite to her friend's.

Brennan looked at Angela. And gave up.

"Ok, something happened. With a man, you're right." She fell silent again. She didn't know—for sure—what would Angela's reaction be. Maybe she could keep the fact it was Booth they were talking about to herself?

"Bren, talk. You've never been shy about men-talk before. Let's start simple. How did you meet him?"

Then the realization came to Brennan: she knew she wouldn't be able to hide any of it. "Promise not to tell anyone 'til it's all sorted out. Not that there's much to tell, but anyway—I'll tell you, but it doesn't get out of these walls."

Angela rubbed her hands together, smiling slyly. "This sounds like fun. Shoot." Then, knowing she'd just gotten her friend confused, added "—talk."

"Last night, Booth and I—" she started, just to be interrupted by her friend's squeal. She just stared at her until she put both her hands over her mouth to stop herself.

"Sorry, Sweetie, but—please tell me you two finally did the deed!"

"No! No, Ange, nothing like that. Maybe simply 'not that'. If by 'deed' you imply what I think you do. But there was a little accident."

Brennan looked into Ange's eyes, taking a moment to collect her thoughts. Then, measuring each word at first, she began to tell her what had happened. "Then, I noticed that he... well, that he—"

"Did he kiss you?"

"No, he did not. He wouldn't. I'm his partner."

"Don't put that crap up to me. Did he bite you then?"

"Ange!"

"But he must have done something to you!"

"Well... No, he didn't. Quite. Something happened, I never said he did something to me. And what happened was..." she had to stop looking at Angela, her stare was so... fixated. She looked at her desk instead. "Well, he was caught in the fact that we were really close and we're both adult, healthy people with certain biological urges, which makes our bodies ever receptive to certain kind of stimuli—"

"Wait... you're saying he went all hot, and that you noticed that you—that he—oh... oh!"

Brennan looked at her friend again, and saw her eyes going huge by the second. "Yes," she replied. "I noticed."

"Bren! But that's—was he—how _relevant _and_ interesting_ was this thing you noticed in him?"

"I'm in no way telling you that. It's Booth we're talking about."

"But that's exactly why! It's been more than 3 years waiting!"

"I haven't been waiting nothing at all, you know that."

"Maybe _you_ don't want to think you do, but you _do_ have to concede that _I _have been waiting for you to have the knowledge to be able to let me know." She looked at Brennan a second, seeing if she'd cooperate. But she didn't say a word. "Anyway, by your reaction I gather he's rather not _impressive_, so maybe you don't want to tell to protect him."

"What? No! He's absolutely—" she stopped when she heard Angela's laugh. Then she realized she'd been caught. She had to laugh as well.

"So good, I knew he wouldn't let us down." Angela clicked her nails against Brennan's desk a few times, a look of deep appreciation on her face. "And then? What happened?"

"Nothing, really. I tried to explain him that what had happened was completely natural, but I think I didn't convince him... I don't know. But he finally broke the door open and we got out. Then he drove me home. He didn't say a single word, Ange."

"_He_ was silent? Booth, silent? Wow. And you?"

"We were both silent. I didn't know what else to say, and it seems he didn't know either or he just wanted to forget about it. But then we got to my house and well... this time I didn't offer him a cup of coffee or a beer at my place, and he just remained there in the car, seated and looking through the window. It was an awkward situation, Ange. I didn't know how to act."

"Why didn't _you_ kiss him?"

Brennan rolled her eyes. "I expect you know how I'll answer to that. We're just partners."

"...partners," Angela finished at the same time, rolling her eyes. "Yeah, keep thinking that. After what just happened, I don't think you two will have many more excuses. After all," she added while standing up and leaving her friend's office, "You just admitted that the only reason for not kissing him was that damn line of yours."

* * *

Booth was at his office, a file containing further evidence on the case and some info he'd requested opened in front of him on the desk. His eyes kept running over the same paragraph over and over again, and yet its meaning didn't sink in.

His mind was full of Bones.

He was quite used to having her on his mind most of the time. "We're partners," he mumbled trying to convince himself. The thing was, it sounded like a mantra already, he'd used it so much. _We spend more time together than with any other people or even alone. I've shared a lot with her, we've been through many things together. It's obvious why she'd be on my mind. There's nothing to think of it._

He felt the usual worm of doubt creeping in him anytime he tried to convince himself of that.

_You know better than that. __She's the one with trouble accepting her true feelings. You might as well accept what is really there once and for all._

_NO. I WON'T RISK US THAT WAY._

But the issue of what had happened the night before remained there.

"God... what am I going to do?" _We have to go and see Sweets in a little while. And if we didn't, I'd still have to go to the lab. So, sooner or later, I'll have to face her. And it seems it'll be sooner than I'd like._

He wasn't sure what troubled him the most, if the fact it had happened at all or that he hadn't acted in a better way.

He knew she was right when she told him it was a natural thing to happen. They were, after all, to use her words, two healthy and grown up people. The problem was that the female part of the pairing was Bones.

He'd long ago accepted he had the hots—that he really liked the way his partner was structured. But one thing was to know that—and maybe sometimes even look at her when she wasn't noticing to appreciate her—and other was to start having these kinds of encounters with her. It was dangerous. He could be a good man, one that longed to do everything right, whose conviction was that he had to do things right—but he was a man, a very human male. He had weaknesses, and he would never forgive himself if he risked what he had with her just because he had the hots.

_Bones is a weakness of mine._

He made the effort to redirect his thoughts to a different line.

If something like that happened again—first the kiss, then the closet. Never mind the fact there have been months in between—it'd be more difficult to stop himself from doing something they'd both regret afterwards. The slightest mistake, and he could lose her—he could lose what they had forever.

He knew she knew what they had was rare. He knew she'd understand.

That's why he should have been smarter and laughed about the whole thing, but no. He hadn't known what to do and he had shut her out, making it more important than it should be. Now he had only two choices: he ignored it and acted as if nothing had happened, or talked to her about it.

He realized the last option made him nervous. After all, what could he say? Nope, no way he was talking to her about it. He had a right to let things go by with no explanations in between. She did it all the time, why should he have to force himself to an awkward situation, when she would rationalize it and never talk about it again? It happened with the kiss. Ok, he'd dismissed it as well, but she, she acted as if it was of no consequence. In front of Caroline and in front of Sweets, as well. God, she'd even dismissed the fact he'd taken a bullet for her. He'd do it again if necessary, but it didn't mean he didn't want her to be at least a little bit thankful and, at least, not take it _against_ him. He'd been just following protocol, after all...

He felt much better, much more confident. Being a bit mad at her was a good protection against the insecurity of facing her again.

With this new frame of mind, he headed for Sweets's office.

The best solution was simply to deny everything. Bones, being the best at it, would surely understand.


	3. Chapter 3

**3****rd**** chapter, wonderfully beta'd by **_**Bailadora**_** and **_**SherlockBones**_**!**

**Next chapter should be up soon.**

**I'd really like to know if you enjoyed it, if it made you **_**feel**_**, what you felt. I'll be expecting my inbox full of reviews! They're a way to evolve in my writing, and a reward! (Would you recognize it if I told you **_**you help me evolve**_**? lol)**

* * *

They both sat on the couch in Sweets's office, completely silent, staring at the psychologist as if waiting for him to save them.

And that was a new experience for him.

He played at being silent a bit more. He knew that being observed made them nervous, especially Agent Booth. But there was more than nervousness in them today.

She simply sat there, staring into emptiness, bland face showing no interest. But her arms and legs were crossed defensively, and her breathing was just a bit shorter than usual.

He... well, he was a bit more obvious. His forehead was furrowed, his teeth clenched. He had the foam figurine in his hand and he was... suffocating it.

"Are we going to discuss whatever you consider is important or not, Sweets? I'd be rather someplace else getting the job done rather than sitting here doing nothing," Booth finally said, as if he couldn't take the situation anymore.

"I've been thinking that we should analyze the anger you're so clearly feeling, Agent Booth."

"Anger? Why should I be angry? There's nothing to be angry about." He stole a glance at Brennan, who looked at him as if what was happening wasn't of any interest to her.

"I would like to remind you that you have to work on accessing your feelings."

He noted how Agent Booth looked at Dr. Brennan, asking for help. But she still looked uninterested. _Well, that is new_, he thought.

"Is there anything you would like to say, Dr. Brennan?"

She looked at her partner briefly before answering, a hesitation Sweets registered with no problem. "No, not really".

"Not _really_, Dr. Brennan? Because I sense some tension going on in here."

"Tension? There's no tension at all, Sweets. Really, where did you get your degree, again?" Booth said, obviously looking for a way to release whatever negative emotions he had.

"He asked _me_, Booth. You could have thought of respecting that, even if you are not willing to respect him and his various qualifications."

Both he and Booth looked at her in surprise.

"Dude, what was that?" he let escape before he could stop himself.

She reacted at the men's stare, needing to defend herself. "I just thought Booth was being rude and that he needed to be... reminded of some basic social rules, that's all".

"_You_ wanted to teach _me_ social rules?" Booth asked his partner in a doubtful voice.

"That was rude, again. You've been acting really weird, lately."

Sweets decided to remain silent and observe this... conflict. He'd learned by now that if he interrupted, they'd find a way to turn the problem back around on him and end any chance for asking questions about them. He could see Dr. Brennan was getting rapidly upset and that Agent Booth was half nervous—half upset himself.

"Weird? I haven't been acting weird."

"You have, especially after the little accident in the closet last night."

Psychology be damned. He forgot his decision almost as soon as he'd made it. "Closet? What closet?"

"No closet," Booth said with a none-too-concealed warning.

"What, you forgot about the closet already?" To Sweets, she seemed genuinely confused, and he seemed genuinely pissed.

"No, I haven't. But it didn't matter, it wasn't important. I don't see why Sweets would have any interest in it."

"Oh, I am interested, man."

"Sweets, I've told you to get your own sex life before."

"Sex? You two had sex in a closet?"

"No!" Agent Booth and Dr. Brennan said at the same time.

"But something happened in a closet."

"Yes, but it wasn't of a sexual nature," Booth said quickly.

"What? But... Your body reacted to mine. Sexually. We were very close and—"

"Bones!"

"This is better than cable!"

"Sweets!" Booth added.

That brought him back to professionalism. "I'm sorry," he said. He cleared his throat, hoping to be back to his serious self. "Let's analyze this newly arisen issue. You, Agent Booth, were sexually stimulated by what I understand as a situation where you two were involved."

"Oh God," was all Agent Booth could seem to muster as he rubbed his face and massaged his skull with a hand, clearly troubled.

"Dr. Brennan?" Sweets decided to direct his questions to her, instead. It seemed she would be able to handle the conversation better. And would let him know what had happened.

"I tried to tell him it was a natural biological response!"

"And it is, I know that, but..." He seemed to be having problems gathering his thoughts. Sweets had to bite his tongue to stop from inquiring into the subject, waiting to see what kind of explanations Booth decided to give; it would be highly valuable information. "Ok. It's a natural thing. I am a very, _very_ healthy male, after all, right? A human male with human weaknesses and a body that has always answered to any task I have ever put it to. I know it would have probably happened no matter who it had been. That's not a problem in itself...Had it been any other woman, probably it would have happened as well and maybe it would have even been a much stronger _biological answer_ as my partner here likes to call it," Agent Booth said loosing his control over words, getting excited to the point of almost babbling. "Or maybe it would have even gotten _beyond_, if you know what I mean. I have even been thanked for the way my body reacts, for God's sake! So no, my problem is not about _my_ body but about _hers_!"

"What? _My_ body? My body has no problem whatsoever, Booth. My body is very healthy, too!" Dr. Brennan answered rather agitated.

"Please calm down, Dr. Brennan. My guess is Agent Booth didn't mean your body physically but rather figuratively. Am I right, Agent Booth?" Sweets had decided to give the poor man a little break. It would be one thing for him to read into the Agent's words what he couldn't even remember thinking, and another entirely to expose him openly to her reactions, for which neither of them was ready. Booth wasn't ready to let her know he wanted her, just as she wasn't ready to know it either.

Booth's face changed from mildly panicked—from the realization of what he had just said, was Sweets's guess—to a more relaxed frame. "Yeah, Sweets. You're right. I mean figuratively. I mean her body as her self." He looked at Brennan with more calmed eyes, if only with a slight frustration. "As her being my partner."

Sweets wondered if he had any idea of how much he'd just let show there. His devotion for his partner was only more confirmed by this simple sentence after the previous speech. Maybe he'd gotten used to thinking Dr. Brennan as a safe depositary of these kind of veiled and half told truths, safe from her insights by her troubles in reading people and forgetting he was in front of a trained psychologist. Or simply dismissing _that_ as important.

"So you have a problem with me because I'm your partner?" she asked, a little hurt.

"Well, yeah, Bones. I mean, no. It's not that I have a problem with you being my partner, I only had a problem with that fact yesterday because—somehow—it's like... you're you. You're my partner."

"I don't understand. That doesn't make any sense."

They both looked frustrated, not knowing how to communicate. It was rather interesting, how two people so connected, so tuned, could build these spontaneous walls whenever the I-want-you issue made its appearance. They could handle the caring and tender situations—at least most of the time, from what Sweets had gathered—, but they weren't able to manage the I-want-something-more thing. He knew it was a defense mechanism: it was better to ignore the situation, than confronting it and being rejected.

Sweets decided to help them again. "What Agent Booth is saying, Dr. Brennan, is that he's not comfortable mixing the concept of you being his partner with the concept of you being a woman."

"If that's what he's trying to say, it's still not logical. I am a woman _and_ his partner. But I'm willing to concede that encounters like these tend to blur the line."

"Not that the line is really needed," Agent Booth added. Sweets couldn't help but notice that for once he was avoiding her gaze. "It's just that it's easier to imagine one's there."

"I know what you two mean by the line. I remember when you explained it to me," he said keeping to himself the knowledge that very same opportunity had given him: that line was just another symbolic wall that they erected every time things became too close to forcing them to accept what they didn't want to deal with.

"So we're clear," the Agent asked, looking at him in a rather forced, too-straight way. "We're partners, so it's easier if we just keep it all sexless. And private." Sweets heard the thin strain of anger in the last part, but decided to ignore it. The session was getting rather long, and he needed to start winding it down.

"Yes, it is, just as it has always been. I'd say this is just an accident, as you both have already stated. Everything should be normal from now on. Unless there's something else any of you would like to talk about? Something you feel has not been resolved?"

"I can't think of anything else," Dr. Brennan said.

"Nothing else I'd like to talk about here, no," was the other answer.

With that, Sweets let them go.

As he saw them close the door behind them, he hoped he had made the right choice in not dwelling on the renewed anger he'd seen develop in Agent Booth. He knew that what had happened could lead somewhere just as it could evaporate into nothing, so trying to get deeper into it and what its consequences seemed to be wouldn't necessarily be for the better.

Of course, he wasn't oblivious to the ethics of the situation. He knew that he was supposed to work in the Bureau's interest rather than in his patients's, looking for a balance between everyone involved. In that sense, he'd have had to look deeper in the situation, to make sure their partnership could still work as fluently and as succesfully as it had in the past. And, if he sensed they were losing professionalism or starting to work badly together, he'd have to advise the Bureau to sever the partnership. That was his duty, and he knew it.

He walked to the window and looked to the small plaza his office had a view of. Hands in his pockets, brows furrowed, he had to accept that in this case he wasn't thinking in the bureau's interest first. He cared a bit too much about this couple—sorry, partners, considering what his position was as a professional.

If he'd had to explain it, he would have said that they were an interesting case and then he would have listed the many reasons why this was so. But the other reason would have remained hidden.

He would never say aloud to anyone that, deep inside, he knew he was just another helpless romantic.


	4. Chapter 4

**Here it goes, a chappie where something interesting happens! So, I'll be expecting you to help me evolve sending me your opinions and ****criticism (good or bad). I will be waiting, seriously!**

**It's a little bit shorter, but I thought it was needed to cut it there. I hope you agree... lol.**

**And it's never a bad idea to thank my betas again, **_**Bailadora**_** and **_**SherlockBones**_**!**

--

They reached her office at the lab. He took his coat off, using much more force than necessary.

"I know I'm not good at reading people's emotions, Booth, but I'm pretty sure you're mad at me. I'd like to know what I could have done to make you so angry."

He looked at her. She was pretty mad herself, and he wondered if she noticed. "I can't believe you told him, Bones!"

"I don't see what's so terrible about it."

At least she wasn't doing as if she didn't know what he was talking about. "If you wanted to talk to me about it, then you should have at least waited 'till we were alone!"

"We were alone before when we were in Sweets's waiting room, and I still didn't have the chance to say more than 'hello' to you."

"What do you mean by that?" he asked, confused and angry.

"You weren't talking to me, Booth! You were there physically but you were completely closed off to me the whole time. You were making distance between us."

"Well, at least now you know what it is like to be with you," he said.

"I don't know what that means."

"Yeah, well. Why is it that doesn't surprise me?" he rolled his eyes. "Anyway, that's no excuse for you letting me down!"

"Letting you down? How could telling Sweets your body reacted to mine be even near to letting you down?"

"Shh!! You want everyone to know?" She was going to talk, but he interrupted her. They were leaning towards each other, their faces inches apart, whispering rather loudly, their anger evident. "Shh. Let me finish. I can't believe you don't understand why I'm mad, Bones. I see why you say it's normal it would happen. But Sweets... he's gonna read more into it than he should, for his own good and for _our_ good. AND, commenting on it in front of him... well, you weren't on my side! We're supposed to be as one when in there, Bones. We're an item, a single front against him and his scrutiny."

"Right. Nice. People are always telling me how I should try and compartmentalize less and when I try to do it you get mad at me."

"I have no problem with you being more open, I'd just prefer you were when with me, not when in front of that kid."

"I probably would have, if you'd showed even a little bit of interest for my well being."

"What do you mean? I've always cared about your well being, Bones!"

"You want me to list the times you haven't cared about how well I'm doing? 'Cause I can readily tell you two: when you died and now when you wouldn't even say hello to me properly."

"There you go again. I've explained to you about my death so many times already, I'm getting pretty tired of it. And I did say hello, Bones."

"Yeah, with attitude."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"You said hello with your face as contorted as Parker's when you make him eat vegetables."

For a moment, he felt at loss of words. _That_ he didn't expect. He'd bet she didn't realize how easily she could read him. He still felt betrayed, though. "Ok, I'm sorry if I wasn't in the best of moods this morning. That make you happier? I just had a bad night, started the day on the wrong foot or whatever. The thing is, you should know by now you can talk about whatever you want with _me_; that if you have a problem with _me_, you talk about it with _me_. We're two grown ups and as such we shouldn't need someone else's help to deal with our own problems. At least not Sweets's help! I swear, you couldn't have chosen anyone who would have made me feel _more_ embarrassed!"

"But you said there was nothing to be embarrassed about, you completely dismissed it! You said that it was like having any other woman, that it would have happened no matter who it had been and that probably it would have been better if it had been other woman!"

"You said that kissing me was like kissing your brother!"

Thinking about the kiss again made him realize how close in proximity they were. He felt the knot in his gut, the need pumping from deep inside of him. The look in her eyes didn't help, what with the heat that was still radiating off of them, their breathing still ragged from their discussion, the way her anger had colored her skin and—he couldn't help looking—her lips.

"What does that have to do with it?"

"Shit," he said, barely hearing her. Then, before he could realize what he was doing, he was holding her face in his hands and planting a furious kiss on her lips.

She didn't respond to the kiss. She was too stuned to do more than realize Booth was kissing her. He was just about to insist, touching his tongue to her lips, when he realised what he was doing.

He began to retreat, painfully ashamed that his hormones had cheated on him in such a way that he hadn't been able to do the right thing—getting hold of his need once more. But the distance didn't grow between them, as some force seemed to keep Bones attached to his mouth. When she threw her arms around his neck, it dawned on him that it was _her_ now kissing _him_, her tongue now trying to deepen the kiss.

He put his hands on her ribcage, trying to get some space between them. But she let escape a sound of frustration that came from her throat so distinctly sexual that he forgot everything beyond the kiss, which he was suddenly very much into. Mouths open to give more contact space, lips pressing onto the other's, tongues probing, tasting, tangling. His hands on her lower back, pressing her against him. Her hands messing with his hair. His hands fisting a handful of her blouse to keep them from reaching for flesh. Her hands traveling down his body in search of a way to his skin. Hearts beating fast, trying to get blood to every cell of their bodies, blood filled with hormones and passion. And almost not air. That had to be why she was feeling dizzy and the world seemed to revolve around her. Just as she had pressed for the kiss, she ended it.

"Now I know what they mean when they say a kiss can be intoxicating. Clearly my CO2 levels are higher than they should be."

"Uh? What?" he quickly assessed the situation and didn't falter in repeating himself. "Shit."


	5. Chapter 5

They stared at each other, not knowing what to do.

_Please, let someone interrupt us_, he thought. But as seconds became minutes, no one else entered her office.

"I don't know what to say," he finally announced. He thought that it was simpler if he said what was on his mind, instead of trying to figure something clever that he hoped would let things go back to normal. But not one of the many things he'd thought seemed to fill the bill. "I'm sorry is not enough, 'cause it won't necessarily take things back to normal. Explaining why I did it won't either. Ignoring it isn't a solution. Just look where ignoring the closet incident took us," he tried to joke to lighten up the air. To tell the truth, he was terrified. If there was a moment he thanked his years as a sniper, it was when he had to face strong, confusing feelings while showing a calm façade.

She looked too serious to him, making him nervous. But she was fighting a thousand battles inside that he couldn't see. _Why didn't I let him stop? What do I do now? What will he do now? Will he leave me? What do I want him to do, for that matter? Why did he do it? Why did this happen?_

She decided to try and understand. Maybe it wasn't the wisest thing to do, but it was all she could feel comfortable with. "I guess I think it would be helpful if you told me why you did it, Booth."

He looked at her trying to collect his thoughts. Then, trying to get more time, he stepped away from her and sat down on her couch. He closed his eyes, not knowing what to say, how much to say, how to say it. "I... I'm not sure, Bones. I guess you just looked too beautiful and I was too mad." He finally opened his eyes to look at her, and found her frowning.

After a few moments she sat on the couch as well, leaving a safe distance between them. "I'd say it doesn't make sense, but it actually does. It's a proven fact that anger can be misunderstood as sexual arousal, because the body acts quite similarly, physiologically speaking, during both situations."

He sighed, not sure if he was happy or disappointed at her explanation. If she found a reasonable way of explaining the kiss it was very possible for them to let it go, just as they had done with the mistletoe. But it also meant that this kiss would be trivialized as well and, even if it made him uncomfortable, he had to be honest and admit—at least to himself—that he wished the kiss had meant something for her as well.

Because no matter what explanations he was trying to give, he knew he would never forget the way his body had sung while having her in his arms.

"Why did you kiss me back, Bones? Why did you push it?" He needed to know. If they were going to have to put it all in a sealed box with a never-talk-about-it label, he needed to at least have this point cleared up.

"Push it? I did not push it," she tried to convince him and herself. But it took one simple look at her partner to know she had to be as honest as he had been. She took a deep breath. "I—I don't know. Booth, I really don't know. It surprises me as much as it seems to be surprising you."

They became silent, each deep in their own thoughts.

Finally, she broke the silence. "I guess we have to do something about it."

"Do something about it? Do something like what?" he asked, a bit scared. He wasn't sure if he trusted what her mind could come with in these kinds of situations.

He couldn't know _she_ wasn't sure, either. But she had to at least _try_ to apply some logic to it. All she knew was that she wasn't ready to try and see what her feelings were trying to get her to do. "Something like—something that allows us to wear the tension off."

_Making love_, he thought. _That would do it_. But it wouldn't be just sex, and that was a problem. With her.

He panicked. She couldn't be suggesting that; it had to be his imagination telling him _that_ was where she was trying to lead the conversation. "I don't know if that's a good idea, Bones."

"I think it is. We both seem to be having troubles managing this tension between us. We seem to have certain amount of unreleased sexu—"

"Whoa. Wait, Bones. Stop," he said as he stood up from the couch, too nervous to stay there. "That is definitely _not_ a good idea. We're partners."

"That's exactly why we have to do something about it. We have to find a way to release the tension."

"That's fine. How about you write a new chapter for your book. I'll go run a few miles."

She actually considered it. The idea of just sleeping together to see if that could make them forget what had just happened made her more than slightly nervous and, surprisingly enough, this time she wasn't convinced _that_ was a logically positive answer.

Seeing she wasn't sure what was the right thing to do either calmed him a bit. He crouched in front of her, trying to keep the eye level without being too close. At least not close enough to be tempted again. "We can still play it safe. We can put that line back to where it was," he whispered.

Maybe she couldn't quite name the feeling that filled her after hearing what he had just said, but she could categorize it easy enough. It was highly unpleasant. "Do you really want to?" Then, after seeing his shocked reaction, added "I mean, do you really think that will be enough?"

"I hope it is. I don't want anything to change between us."

"Me either."

They looked at each other for a while.

She felt lost in his eyes once more.

He felt the need once more. And smiled. It seemed they were back to perfect normality. "I'd give you a guy hug to seal the matter, but I guess that's not the best thing to do under the circumstances."

She smiled, too, and gave him her hand to shake.

He took it and, standing up again, pulled her off of the couch. "Ok, Bones. Let's go find some murderers."

* * *

After a long day of crime-fighting, they were both tired and hungry. They currently were at the diner, sitting at their usual place, eating their usual food choices—a burger and fries for him, a healthy salad for her—and talking about the usual stuff. Work this time, mainly.

Routine was something they both needed badly to stop themselves from thinking.

"Ok, so this guy discovers the fraud, and tells them that unless they pay him a huge amount of money, he's gonna call the cops. They let him believe he's got it his way and, before he knows what's happening, they kill him."

"And that's the first body we found."

"Exactly. But they didn't count on him telling his girlfriend. Now, this girlfriend is trying to decide what to do, right? Her boyfriend has disappeared and she's certain it's them that did something to him. She calls the cops to report him missing and then goes to these guys to ask for an answer. In the middle of the discussion, she tells them she knows about the fraud so they decide to kill her, too."

"And because of that call you made the connection between both bodies and you could tell it was her body beforehand," she said glad she'd been able to rationalize it.

"Well, yeah. Partially. It was mainly my gut. No one had reported her missing. Anyway, there's only one thing that I can't understand yet. They really seem to think they're still safe. If they thought they were in danger they would try to protect their backs, which to them probably means to keep killing people. It's the first killing that's difficult, and we don't know how many other people they've made _disappear_ that we have yet to find."

"Is that true?"

"What? What's true?"

"That it's the first killing that's difficult. Seeing you I would have said every kill was difficult. That with every kill you felt something like what I felt when I killed Epps's friend."

_Ok. That was something I wasn't expecting_, he thought. He took her hand without thinking, trying to comfort her. "Look, Bones... It's different. We're different from them. They—they kill because they see the other as a problem, as something that needs to be removed from their sight, from their plans. They're objects to them, pieces in a gigantic chess board. That isn't the way people like us see things."

"Why, what's different?"

"We wish we could have chosen differently. We wish we had never done that. We wish things like that didn't happen in the world. And there's something else. We can still see their faces when we close our eyes."

"I'm sorry, Booth. I'm sorry you have this weight on you. I'm sorry you have to live with so much regret."

There it was again, he realized. One of their moments. They looked at each other with such intensity that the world seemed to vanish around them.

He smiled and let go of her hand, trying to lighten up the mood and more than a bit touched by what she had just said. "Well, yeah. There's just so much I'm regretful of. But there's also a lot to be thankful for. We won't forget that, ok? But for the time being, all we'll think about is having a slice of pie and then going to bed."

He felt the awkwardness fall on them as soon as he'd finished the sentence. They looked at each other confused by the implied meaning; they could choose to acknowledge it or not, trying to decide whether it had anything to do with the _kissing event_.

"Everything's back to normal," she said smiling.

"Perfectly normal," he smiled back.

* * *

**I'm writing this A/N here to not interrupt the flow, in case you've just finished the previous chap. I'll just remind you to help me evolve (aka, plz review), and I'll thank my betas, _SherlockBones_ and _Bailadora_!**

**Oh, well. Ok. I'll listen to the little voice in my head and I'll add I'd very much like to know what you think of the story so far, and of how it's developping. **

ps: I'll try to post as soon as I can. Next chap is almost done, but college is back with full force and I've little time to do my fanfic writing... encouragement, anyone?


	6. Chapter 6

A few days had passed and, as she looked back objectively, she realized that things had gone back to normal. Mostly.

They talked as they used to, went out following lines of investigation as usual, had lunch as usual. But there was something amiss and she had to find the anomaly to set her mind at ease again.

Right, she could always compartmentalize. But she also had an IQ high enough to do more than one thing at a time, so she allowed herself to wonder at what could be different while doing some paperwork.

Booth. Seeley Booth. Funny, she never called him by his first name, just as he never called her by hers. Not that they didn't know each other well enough; in fact, she wondered if there was anyone who knew her better than he did. And, though she couldn't tell how much she actually _knew_ him, she was sure she was at least able to estimate with a high probability of success what he was going to do or how he was feeling at any given moment.

This Special Agent was special, indeed. If someone had told her a few years back that there would be someone who would change her the way he had, she would have laughed first and asked if they were being sarcastic second. She was self-aware enough to know that she still had problems reading people and that she still lacked a huge amount of social references and pop culture, but she had certainly evolved in her social abilities. And she knew it was his influence on her.

What made him different? What was there in him that could reach into her? What was in him, that for the first time, she wished she could be the kind of woman who would know how to relate to a man, to this man, in a deeper way?

She froze at that. Maybe she wasn't so good at doing various things simultaneously. That could be the only way to explain why something like that appeared in her mind without being cut back by her defences. Sadly to her, once there, she had to think it through.

OK. He was an attractive man. His body was certainly something that would catch her attention, what with the way he moved, the perfect control he seemed to have of every muscle. But that was something she would notice in any man that had that characteristic, and something every woman would notice in him. But... did that include a certain sexual awareness? Could that be the reason why she'd become quite expectant of every time they touched, even if it was just as a result of casual moves?

She had to congratulate herself. She knew she had just been as honest as she could be to herself about herself when she admitted she was constantly aware of Booth's touch. Following the openness pattern, she realized it had all gone beyond usual proportions after the kiss. Well, after the second kiss.

She still wondered what had made him kiss her in the first place. Did he want her beyond the kiss? The way they connected during the kiss told her he did, but the way he'd insisted they had to put the line back to place told her he didn't. Certainly, she didn't have skills enough to resolve that little riddle. And there was yet another thing to ponder. Why had she kissed him back? Why had she pushed it, as he'd called it? That question had been playing around in her head since he had voiced it, and the only answer she could come with wasn't one that made her happy.

She'd pushed it because she'd wanted more. Every cell in her body had yelled for more. A lot more of... a lot more of him, whatever that included.

And that, definitely, wasn't something she was ready to think about.

She breathed deeply and realized she had stopped filing the papers a long while ago and that she was in fact tapping the pen to the paper rather frantically. Trying to concentrate on the task, she tried hard to leave that particular train of thought for another opportunity, one when facing this kind of discoveries didn't fill her with a sense of weakness.

* * *

When he entered her office, he found her head bent over a pile of papers. She was writing in a constant manner, her concentration put completely on her work, a lose ponytail that let free some strands of her hair, her brows furrowed in concentration, her lips a bit pursed. He couldn't help thinking she looked amazing.

"Bones! I've got good news!" He reached her desk and sat on one of the chairs, ignoring his wish to just lean towards her and kiss her softly this time. Somehow he found himself longing for a long, tortuous kiss—the kind of kiss they had yet to share. To mask this musings he put on his mid-way charm smile.

"Hello, Booth." She finished writing the last bit and added her signature, not so much for having the thing done as for gaining time. Her previous meditations still had her feeling a bit uneasy. She finally raised her eyes to him and couldn't help but smiling at the way he was noticeably more relaxed. "What is it?"

"We have them. The last bit of evidence has been processed and now we can arrest them. Congrats, Bones. The case is closed!"

They both smiled to each other for a while, content enough by success; they didn't care for the need of words. No matter how many times they'd done the right thing and put the bad guys in prison, she still marvelled how she'd been a part of it—that they both made such a good team. A team that he thought did great on more than the crime solving level. After a while, though, they needed to break the contact. The thoughts behind the looks were making them self-conscious and more than slightly nervous.

"OK, then," he said wondering what to do next. He wanted to invite her someplace else, where they could talk endlessly about whatever came to their minds. But since the kiss, he'd retained himself from those out-of-nowhere invitations, thinking that maybe they needed to cut back on their amounts of time spent together.

Even knowing that, he had the invitation on the tip of his tongue. He just stared at her, not noticing how intent his look was, how much energy seemed to radiate from his eyes—but he couldn't do otherwise. He was caught in the sight of her, thinking it was silly of him to miss her; they spent several hours a day together. But sometimes it just didn't seem enough.

Holding his breath to stop himself from letting a sigh escape, he realized he had to leave or he wouldn't be able to hold himself back anymore.

It was seeing him there in front of her and feeling his gaze on her, feeling the intensity of such a simple gesture, that placed the last piece of the puzzle for her. She knew what had changed. It was simple, really; she wondered why she hadn't been able to detect it.

They didn't share their evenings with each other anymore.

True, they still did the usual things, but they had stopped assuming they'd have dinner together or take a cup or glass of something in the other's place. They'd stopped assuming they'd be with each other for _relaxing_. And, she realized with a start, she missed it.

She saw him starting to rise from the chair, and decided in a split second—without having time enough for second thoughts or to wonder why—she had no reason to wait for him to invite her somewhere. "Booth, what do you think about going somewhere to celebrate the closing of the case?"

He froze in mid-movement. Then, slowly, he stood up completely.

He didn't know what to say. He felt like she had read his thoughts and, even more, his wishes. "Well… Hum… That's… It's a great idea, Bones. Let's do it. Where do you wanna go? I'll drive," he announced as he began leaving the place, trying not to think about how nervous that little, innocent proposition had made him.

"Of course you will," she said to his retreating back, smiling.

* * *

**Well, you know what I'd like. I'll just add a million thank yous to my betas, SherlockBones and Bailadora!**


	7. Chapter 7

The dinner had been a slow and quiet moment for them both; a time they'd relished as if thinking they had to commit every move, every word to memory, as if they felt they wouldn't be enjoying each other's company in a long time. After they ate, they decided to take a walk alongside the mirror pool. Even though neither of them said it aloud, they both felt it was a safe way to prolong the outing together. It was better to share time that way, than considering the chance to go to one of their places.

There was a soft, cold breeze, heavy with the smell of wet ground and recently mowed grass. The pool reflected the few stars strong enough to shed their light through the city skies, and she imagined how it would all look from a plane: a million coloured light points all tied together in a net, its asymmetric limits tied to other nets in the dark planes of the obscured side of Earth.

She thought it was a weird thing for her to imagine. These images usually appeared in her mind only when she was setting the atmosphere for her books' scenes, never when she was just walking along with her partner.

She looked at him walking next to her. He had his hands behind his back and was looking away, as if deep in thought. His brows weren't showing concentration, though; his look was more one of melancholy.

She thought that was a weird thing for him to be doing, if she read him correctly. She couldn't remember a time when she saw Booth melancholic; he was fairly open with his emotions, but there was just a certain range where she was allowed. The sight was so new to her that she started automatically second-guessing herself. Could she be wrong? Could she be mistaken in how she was reading him?

She just wanted to feel assured she knew how to understand him—if she couldn't understand anyone else, she had to know at least with him, she'd share this special connection.

"What are you thinking about, Booth?"

"Mh?" he looked at her sideways, started away from his meditations.

He knew he'd neglected the conversation they'd used as excuse to share this walk together, but he'd been comfortable in the kind of easy companionship that didn't need words to fill the space.

He'd been thinking about how everything seemed to be normal and dramatically different at the same time. They both acted as they always did and talked about the same things, but his feelings were in turmoil. He wasn't used to _that_. He was accustomed to knowing exactly what he felt in exactly the same moment his emotions took a grip on him. But now... All he could seem to think about was that he wished this walk was the kind of walk where he could just take her hand in his.

"You have a look," she said, not certain of how to explain it further.

"I have a look?" he asked, amused. Even though he could tell she was being more open to discuss this kind of non-verbal communication issues, she was extremely insecure about it too.

"That's what I just said. You have a _look_."

"And what kind of look would that be, Bones?" he smiled, not looking at her.

"If I knew how to interpret it, I wouldn't have voiced that assertion in such a vague way, would I?"

Booth's smile turned into a soft laugh. "Easy, Bones. It's ok. I know I have a look. Seriously, you're getting better at this reading-people business. You just need more confidence, more practice, and more openness."

"I think you should explain yourself better, because that makes little sense to me," she said in a dry tone of voice.

"And because me saying that makes you uncomfortable, and thus a little bit angry, right?" he added in what tried to be a soothing voice. He didn't want to fight with her; the night was far too beautiful and quiet to tear its magic away.

But, at seeing the look she sent him—a mix of anger and confusion—he knew he _had_ to explain further. "Look, maybe it didn't come out right, but I think it's actually some kind of compliment. You are getting better at reading people. But you're not used to looking at people to try to read in them what they're thinking; you expect everyone to be as open and ready to say what's on their minds as you are, since you feel that if you want someone to know what's inside you, you'll just let them know. You expect everyone to act that way. But most people aren't that way. Most people just let you know the side of them they think you want to see or that they want you to see. And well, there's the little thing about feelings, too—not everyone is aware of what they're feeling. And most everyone can't hide that and show it on their faces, in the way their bodies stand, in the way they move. And, unless you know how you feel and how that shows, it'll be hard for you to be able to know the way others feel and how that shows on them. But, as you learn to look inwards—or being more _open_—, you start seeing people's emotions on their countenances. _ Practice _at it, and as you start being successful, you gain _confidence_."

"That's why you're so good at it?" she saw him smile at her compliment, but decided to ignore the resulting cockiness. "Since you know your emotions so well, you get to know everyone else's?"

"Uhm—I think that's a stretch. I wouldn't say I can read everyone as an open book. I'm just good at balancing the human ability at reading people with my guts to know what the person in front of me is feeling. But if I could simply look at someone and know what they're feeling or thinking I wouldn't need you, Bones. It'd be as simple as going to every suspect and seeing if they're guilty."

She couldn't help feeling a little glad that he needed her. It was nice to know it was a mutual feeling. "That's what you've meant before when saying we're a great team, right?"

"That's right, Bones. It's because we complement each other that we're such a great team. But please, never tell Sweets I said that," he joked.

And she smiled. "You don't have to worry, Booth, I think I learned my lesson. But I have a question."

"Tell me."

They stood and turned to look to each other. "If you're always so connected to your emotions... Well, isn't it complicated? I mean, I think it can be very tiresome."

He smiled, and without noticing, he reached for her hands and started warming them between his. "Maybe. It can be tiresome, especially if you're confused by what you're feeling. But it's worth it. Every feeling is some kind of guidance about yourself or about your life." He noticed he had finally gave in and held her hands, and let them free with a little pang of regret, hoping for her not to realize the confusion the gesture had brought to him. "And though every one of those feelings is some kind of a neon-lighted sign to tell you what's going on, since not every feeling is nice, it's a natural response to try to hide them; especially if you're trying to hide that particular feeling from the world."

"So not everyone hides their feelings because they're guilty of something, but because they're afraid?"

He was more than a bit shocked by her question. He would have supposed it was obvious. "Well, yeah, Bones. It's hard to express what's inside of us because it's so personal; we fear the other won't understand, or won't like it or whatever. So it's always like feeling and trying to decide how much of it to show to the world... But... Bones, why do you ask?"

"Just to be sure. I knew it to be that way—even when I don't understand why it should happen at all. Why would you be with someone to whom you can't show every aspect of yourself? It just doesn't make sense."

She crossed her arms in front of her, deep in thought. He was a bit uncomfortable with the tone of the conversation; it seemed to him they were talking serious stuff in no clear terms... it felt like they were circling something he couldn't quite see. And what was worse, her insights troubled him.

How much was he hiding from her, from himself? Why would he want to hide it? What to do with it? Because it was true, there was really no point in showing only parts of yourself.

"Uhm..." she interrupted his thoughts, talking softly without looking at him. "I know I don't hide what's inside, 'cause that would be irrational. If something was there, the best thing to do was to show it, to say it, or to do whatever is needed to satisfy what's there and move on. But I have to admit... I don't seem to always know what's there."

Her easy assessment of the way she was still unable to understand her own feelings made her look vulnerable. He knew it wasn't easy for her to let someone know what was inside her unless she'd analysed and rationalized it beyond recognition; the fact she was able to show that bit of herself to him touched him.

When she looked at him, she saw something she couldn't quite name, but that she'd seen before. It was the same look he had when she'd asked if he would ever betray her.

"And you, Booth? How much do you let me know?"

It was obvious to him that she'd need something to rely on, or something to redirect her thoughts from her own insecurities. But he didn't expect that the new focus would be her insecurities of him. The point was, for her to care about that, she had to care about him. It was a great feeling. "I've shown you most of me, Bones. Maybe not all that there is yet, but certainly more than what I've let anyone see," he whispered. "You just have my trust that way."

Their eyes locked in the need to feel the other close, as close as they could be. The tension rose between them, making them long for what seemed to be so far away.

She remembered her meditations in her office. Did he want her? Did the way he looked now, so self-absorbed and so focused on her at the same time, seeming to be waiting for something to happen, mean he wanted to kiss her? Would he kiss her again?

He couldn't take his eyes off her eyes, just as he couldn't help feeling for her. He wished they were somewhere else, some place where there was no danger in them being together: some place where she wasn't afraid of her feelings and there were no more crimes. Some place he could just hold her close and never let go.

He was lost in those eyes, eyes that shone and looked bottomless. His hand seemed to be called to rest on her face, caressing the side of it, a replacement for the kiss he needed and denied himself.

She was completely confused. He seemed to be just about to kiss her, and she surprised herself in that she was not nervous at all. She was actually expectant, wishing for the touch of his lips on hers again. And at the same time, she couldn't help being afraid at whatever was retaining him. He was so alpha-male... why didn't he just kiss her, if he wanted to?

But maybe the right question wasn't why he didn't kiss her, maybe it was whether she wanted to kiss him and if she did, why did she have to wait for him to take the first move?

He saw her get closer to him in what seemed to be a dream. The world lost its solidity and became a blur where all he could see was Bones reaching for him, her hands in his hair pulling him closer to her.

Their lips met softly, the sensation growing steadily. His hands travelled down to her hips, bringing her closer to him. Ever so slowly, the kiss deepened and they started to savour each other, sharing the same air.

She crossed her arms around his neck, lifting herself to stand on the points of her feet and resting herself against him. It amazed her how she felt that, in that moment there was nothing else she needed besides being there with him, in exactly that way. One of his hands caressed her back in a motion that was the echo of the way his tongue touched hers, while the other held her by the waist.

He finally broke the kiss, laying his forehead against hers. He took a deep breath and let it out in a way that made her think he seemed regretful.

She ignored the small pang of hurt. Or tried to.

"We can't keep this up, Bones"

"What... keep what up, exactly?"

"This. It's not good for us. We can't keep kissing this way."

She let go of him and took a step back. "And here I was thinking it was a good kiss."

As soon as she was away, arms crossed defensively in front of her, he knew he was doing a really poor job of making things right. "That's not what I mean, and you know that."

"Why... I'm confused, Booth." Her hands moved in the air trying to emphasize the logical steps her mind was yelling to her of why she'd kissed him. "I thought you wanted to kiss me, and since I did want to kiss you, I made the move. I know your conservative tendencies make you think it's not right for a woman to make the first move, but—"

"Bones," he said, reaching for her with a hand unsuccessfully. She immediately took another step back.

"No, don't interrupt me that way, Booth. I really want to understand what's going on, and I can't see why this has to be so difficult to deal with."

"Please, listen to me. I wasn't going to kiss you. I was going to hold myself back, because it's dangerous for us." His voice was uncertain. He simply didn't know how to save the situation.

"If the kissing is dangerous to our relationship, feeling rejected is much worse." She felt a distinctive pang at hearing herself say that; she hadn't known she was feeling rejected. But, somehow, it felt true. And awfully painful. "I don't think I can be rejected many more times, Booth. I don't know if I can handle rejection coming from you. I simply don't have the emotional abilities."

"Rejection?" He tried to get closer to her again, but she took another step back. "I'm not rejecting you, Bones. I'm trying to save us. I'm trying to save what's between us, don't you see?" He knew he was starting to sound a little despaired, but well... he was.

"No, I can't see." Her body was beginning to feel stiff; she was too tense. She felt like she'd suddenly been left blindfolded in a labyrinth of which she had to find her way out alone. She simply didn't know what to do, what to say, how to work this thing out. She was painfully aware she was fighting against her vulnerabilities and against the idea of messing up her relationship with Booth, and she just didn't know how to do it. "You say you were going to hold yourself back, that means you did want to kiss me. That logically means there is a mutual interest. And if there is a mutual interest, I don't see why we shouldn't do something about it. It's a rational way to satisfy whatever's happening between us."

"But that's too dangerous, Bones. There's just too much between us—We're friends, we're colleagues, we're partners. _Partners_, in every sense of the word. But if we take another step... If we do something towards whatever it is that's bringing us together..." He couldn't remember a time when he'd felt so at loss for words. There was so much he wanted to say, but he just couldn't find the words to describe what was going on inside him. And suddenly, he realized it was because he didn't know what _was_ inside of him. "I... there's too much to lose. One false step, and this all goes to hell. I'm not ready to risk that."

"Ok, I can accept that," she said as she fell silent again. They both looked at each other, feeling lost in the turmoil of what had just happened. "That doesn't mean I understand it." She turned and began to walk away.

"Bones, c'mon. Wait," he began walking behind her, a few steps behind.

She turned again to face him as she sensed him doing that. "Don't follow me. Don't."

"I'll take you home."

"No, you won't. I'll take a cab."

"We haven't finished this conversation. There're still things we have to discuss if we want things to be back to normal again."

"That's the problem. I'm not sure what that is anymore. But don't worry, I'm sure we'll find the time to talk about it—and it'll be a much better time, if only because we won't be assaulted by a million feelings we certainly don't know what to do with. If only, because we'll start using reason. I hope this mess helps you realise why that's the clever thing to do. I'm going home now, and I don't want you behind me. I don't want you near me at all until we're back to being ourselves again. As for now... Good night, Booth."

And with that, he saw her walk away.

He sat in a park bench, put his elbows on his knees and his head on his hands. Letting his breath out, he allowed himself to connect to the shame that was creeping in him. Shame, because he'd acted so poorly. Shame, because he knew he'd thoroughly messed everything up. Shame, because he realized he'd used her fears to hide his own.

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**I'm sorry it's taking so long to update... At least this chapter is a bit longer, isn't it? Anyway, don't worry. I will finish this story! I have a couple more ideas for other fics, but this is my main project till it's finished. **

**And I can't leave without thanking my betas, _Bailadora_ and _SherlockBones_, for their pre-reading and thoughts on my story! **

**So... Any comments? I do work better under pressure, you know...**


	8. Chapter 8

**Ok... first of all, I'm really sorry it took so long to update this story. First my muse was on strike and then uni decided to take my life over! But here I am, summer holidays and all inspired, so it shouldn't take long to finish this fic! As I see it, there are 3 chaps left. But remember how I said I was feeling inspired? Well, there's a sequel forming in the back of my mind, lol!**

**Anyway, I hope you like it! And thanks to _Bailadora_ for beta'ing!**

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It was a beautiful morning. The sun shone brightly, birds sang in the trees. There was a soft breeze that played cheerfully with her hair as she walked through the Jeffersonian gardens, bringing little water drops from the water fountains that felt like dew on her skin.

But she couldn't care less.

Last night she had arrived home directly to her computer, working her frustration off writing she didn't remember what. She went to bed only when she found she couldn't keep her eyes open any more, as to make sure she'd fall asleep immediately. She even programmed her alarm clock so she'd be just a bit late for work, so she'd be in such a hurry she wouldn't have time but to run to be at the lab in time.

In other words, she was trying really hard to avoid thinking. And that was something more than quite unexpected.

She knew things were getting really messed up. She knew she was walking on eggshells, and the fact she'd played a role in breaking the eggs up was troubling her immensely. Besides, there was this other thing: she knew that if she tried to do this alone, things would only get worse, much worse than the possibility of being vulnerable—wasn't that saying a lot?

Somehow, she knew that taking the decision to go and talk to Angela was another sign that she was trying to change. Maybe just a few things, maybe only small bits of herself. But it was enough to scare the hell out of her. Taking these steps, no matter how small they were, was something she didn't want to start doing all by herself. She was feeling helpless and, because of that, mad. She felt unbalanced.

And if she couldn't rely on Booth to help her get her balance back, she'd try relying on Angela.

She reached her friend's office and went right through the open door. She sat on the couch, not noticing how her hands were wriggling furiously on her knees, and stared into space. She didn't know what to say, where to begin, and that confused her even more.

Angela, having noticed the way Brennan had come directly to her, not taking the time even to leave her purse at her own office, looked at her friend and took on the bewildered expression she wore. Saw the way she was squirming in her place and wondered if she'd ever seen her friend being so obvious about her inner turmoil. Saw her... and worried.

She stepped away from her desk, leaving behind a half-sculpted face reconstruction and went silently to sit on the coffee table in front of her friend.

And waited.

"You know," the anthropologist finally said, her voice so low it was almost a whisper. "Sometimes, I've found myself acting out of my brain. I remember a few times. But they left me so insecure that I try to keep them to a minimum. But now... These last few days, I've been forgetting my own experience. I realize I've been trying, I don't know why, to act from my emotions. I shouldn't be surprised this is such a mess."

Angela saw her friend staring down at her hands, fighting a battle with herself. For once, she decided to remain silent, giving Brennan time to try to understand herself. But, as seconds became minutes, she understood her friend needed help to achieve that.

"Bren," she said. "What is a mess? What happened? Tell me."

"Booth. Rather, what's between us... our friendship... it's rapidly becoming something too distorted to have such a clear name. I think. I don't know. God, I hate this feeling. I hate feeling confused. I shouldn't have tried to connect with my emotions. I know it's no good."

"You tried to connect with your emotions?" She really tried to hide any trace of doubt from her voice. She really tried.

"Yes, now I see I did." Angela inwardly sighed at confirming she'd succeeded. "But I'm not sure I was good at it. I realized there were some things... some new things in me. Somehow, it seems I felt happy with the thought of changing, as if for an incredibly weak moment I thought it'd bring any good to my life. And I did, I thought it'd be good, that I could control whatever came out of it, but it certainly didn't bring any good to my life. Instead, it's just changing things in a bad way. And although I know I don't want to try to experiment with my own life anymore and that I want to go back to being the same me I've been for years and years, the mistake is already done and I don't know how to fix it," she finished with strained voice, her terrified and sad look reflecting the way she was feeling.

"Ok... Well... Right," Angela said, trying to make sense out of what her friend had said. The fact that she couldn't really worried her even more. "I think that in order to help you I need the details, Sweetie."

"You think Booth wants me?"

She raised her eyebrows at the question, surprised at Temperance's doubt and by the fact she'd even dared to ask. She had to be really confused to be asking herself or anyone that question. "God yeah, Bren. And if I'm not mistaken, I've been trying to make you understand that since the first day he set foot on this place. And I'm not sure you want to hear this, but I think he doesn't only want you, but that he—cares deeply about you," Angela corrected at the last instant. Her friend was too confused to understand what she'd mean by 'having feelings' or what she really thought: that he was completely in love with her.

"Then why? Why is it all so complicated?"

"Hey," Angela said as she reached for her friend's hands. "Listen. Breath deep. Calm down a bit. I still don't understand what's going on, so we'll start from the beginning, ok? And we'll start with the facts, to then go to the reasons behind them, ok?"

"Ok," Brennan said as she let her breath out.

"So, whatever it is that's happening, it's related to Booth, right?"

"Right. Sort of. I mean, I think it's me that's changing, but what's being affected the most is my relationship with Booth."

"Ok, so yes. Mh-hm. You also said you acted from your feelings. Does that mean it's your feelings that are causing you trouble with Booth?" she asked quietly, respecting her friend's feelings but not being able to avoid having a feeling of hope—maybe this time they were finally going to do something about the feelings they had so much trouble accepting.

"Yes. The other day he kissed me," she said not noticing Ange's gasp of surprise. "But then it was me kissing him... And I don't know why! We decided nothing was going to happen. Or at least he decided nothing was going to happen. Between us. Then there's what happened last night, when we were walking by the mirror pool and I thought he was going to kiss me again. He didn't, and I kissed him. He said we had to stop kissing, that it wasn't good for us. God, I felt so rejected. Ange, I can't stand feeling that from him. I just can't," she finished as she dried the single tear that threatened to fall over.

Angela heard her strained voice and hurt. She just hoped she'd be able to heal her friend, even if it was just a little bit. Having her wounded the first time she allowed herself to dive into her feelings was a very, very bad thing. "He's the one saying you shouldn't be together?"

"Yes. There's this line between us... It means we can't risk being together. We can't risk our friendship, we can't risk something like what happened to Cam when they were together and Epps poisoned her."

"Ok, I kinda get the friendship bit, but what is it about poisoning and stuff?"

"He says that we can't have personal relationships with people at work because we'd be risking the criminals attacking us as a way to getting to each other."

"So he didn't approve of Hodgins and me? How we were supposedly risking each other by being together?"

"I don't know, he never commented on that. And you'd say he didn't approve of Sully and me, right? After all, he was an FBI agent as well! But no, it seems it's only _us_ that aren't supposed to be together or we'd risk each other."

"Well, let me tell you, if he didn't approve of you and Sully it wasn't because of that line of his—it was because he's wanted you since he first saw you and he was seeing it all red with jealousy!" She realized a bit too late the shocked expression on Bren's face, and decided not to dwell on it. "Anyway, we're talking about the line. And it's bullshit."

"I'm not so sure, Angela. If we were together we would be in danger of people attacking the other to get to us."

"I never thought I'd be telling you this, Sweetie, but—There's fault in your logic."

"There is?"

Angela was glad to hear Bren a little more relaxed now that she was talking about it all. "There is. Tell me, have you avoided that kind of thing by not being together?"

Brennan was surprised out of words. "Well..."

"Do you remember when Booth was kidnapped? When _you_ were, for that matter? When there was a _bomb_ in your house? When Booth was _shot_? See, you don't avoid a thing, Bren. You risk those things because of the work we all do, we can't help it. Those things come with the job," she said seeing her friend's face alter as she thought about that. "You two have to be honest. You two care so much for each other that it doesn't matter if you're romantically involved or not, you'll suffer the same if any of you were to get hurt. So it's no reason not to be together. On the _contraire_, it should be a reason to be a couple!"

"No, wait. What? I mean, I understood the first part, but why is it a reason to be together? And what was with the French? You sound like Caroline, Ange," she said even smiling a bit, her spirits rising as she talked things through with her friend.

And her friend noticed, and felt proud of her job. "Forget the French. The important thing is that none of us can avoid the danger. OK, it's worse for you two 'cause you both get to work on the field much, much more than the rest of us, but it doesn't change the facts: if something were going to happen to either of you... wouldn't you wish you'd tried and tasted a bit of paradise?"

"Assuming that by that metaphor you imply trying to be a couple, I'm not that sure," she said, confused by this new perspective on things and more than a little afraid to have her hopes too high.

"Why? I am sure. Bren... I can't start to tell you how much I'd love seeing you experience something as wonderful as being with someone you love and who loves you back, someone who likes you just the way you are and who you like just as much. And believe me... I've felt it can be like that for Booth and you for a long while now... Anyone knowing you both even a little would realize there're deep feelings there. You don't have to act on them for it to be obvious. So why not to act on them? If it's not going to release tension for you two it sure as heck will release the tension of us looking at you and it'd put an end to the bets I'm sure there must be running around."

Brennan rolled her eyes. "You have got to be exaggerating."

"I am not, believe me," Angela chuckled.

"Anyway," Temperance said as she let a sigh escape, "it all sounds logical and great, maybe too great. But it doesn't do much for the risk of messing up our friendship."

The sadness had come back to Bren's eyes. "Look... After all that's happened I'm not sure there's much you can do about it. I mean," she decided to elaborate at seeing how she started to panic a bit, "clearly a friendship is not enough for you anymore. I don't think anyone's been able yet to define what separates a friendship from a romantic relationship, but I don't think anyone doubts it's not the same. And I think you two aren't friends... you're a couple. A couple that wasn't ready to be one but that is finally seeing things clearly. A couple that is made by such good friends that it's highly improbable they won't make it work."

It was then, just then, that Temperance understood what was inside her. Something _popped_ in her, lighting something she hadn't seen there before even though she was sure it had been there for a long while. She thought maybe this was what was called an epiphany. "Ange... I do. You're right, I do."

"You do what?" she asked, confused.

"I do want to be romantically involved with Booth. Oh, God!" If things were scary before, now they were simply terrifying.

"Hey... Hey!" she said reaching for her, taking her by the shoulders. "It's alright. It's ok to feel that way."

"No, it's not ok..." she hid her face behind her hands, so her voice sounded muffled by them. "What am I supposed to do now? I've never felt like this before. I've never felt this much before! I simply don't know what to do with all this. Why did he get into me so much I'd be willing to risk looking inwards? Why does he make me feel this much? It just doesn't make sense. It doesn't."

"That's what happens when you find something like what you two have. It took you long enough to realize, though."

Brennan took a deep breath and lay back on the couch. "I guess it seems like it from where you are. I can't really concur."

"Just let me tell you something. Don't be so scared. I'm really happy to see you're focusing on your feelings and that they're this important because it means you're living life at its fullest. Don't stop, Sweetie. You don't have to change; I love you just as you are. But at least with us that love you this much... Allow yourself to feel _everything_," she said emphasizing the last word. "We're here to go there right next to you on that trip," she hugged her tightly. "And just go for it. You won't regret it."

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**So, what did you think? It was really hard to write this chapter, always insecure about finding the balance between what Bren would be like with all these changes going on in her and keeping it not too OOC. I guess that's why my muse felt so rebellious!**


	9. Chapter 9

**I know this chap is short, but I needed it to be. I just hope you like what you're about to read! I'm inspired, but it's been hard to write these development chaps. They're both in a kind of crisis, and trying to know how they'd behave has been a bit tortuous.  
**

**Thanks to _Bailadora _for beta'ing!**

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They hadn't talked at all since the previous night, and he didn't know if he was relieved by it or not. He had been about to call her many times during the day, but he'd decided against it every time. He simply didn't know what to say... how could he, if he didn't know what was happening? He didn't even know what he really wanted, what he really felt.

He got out of his car and entered his house, closing the door behind him. He went directly to his bar, not bothering to turn the lights on. He needed more than a beer tonight, so he served himself a single malt scotch and took it to his couch, where he sat in the darkness.

He knew he wanted to see her, that he wanted to make things right. He wanted to listen to her, to walk next to her, to see her smile one of her beautiful smiles at him. He wanted to be there with her when she gave her full attention to whatever riddles she always found in the remains she was working with. He wanted to simply be with her...

He just wanted to be with her.

He closed his eyes and let his breath out, nervous by the line of thought he was having. He used to keep that kind of thought at bay, fearing to find something he knew he wasn't ready to acknowledge. But he knew that if he didn't allow himself to go there this time, he could well say goodbye to what he had with Temperance.

Funny, when he got to think of her in this way, in this more intimate way—one in which he began to feel the little waves of... feelings—he fell into calling her Temperance more often. He did like to call her Bones; it was his affectionate name for her, one he didn't like to hear other people using but that to him summarized their story together. So even though Bones meant a lot to him, it was Temperance he talked to on the rare occasions he let his heart take full predominance.

Maybe that was why he didn't call her that too often. He knew he hid himself behind humor and affability and that there were really few people that knew his dark side. Bones was maybe one of two or three people that could say they shared one of his secrets. It was hard for him to open himself to others; he was much better in being there for the people he cared for than allowing them to be there for him. So when he showed his heart to her it wasn't by words, but by actions... in the way he talked to her, in the way he cared about her. Thus, he'd only called her by her given name on the unusual occasions when she allowed him to comfort her and not much more. It didn't mean he didn't call her that when she wasn't there.

Ok, so what did he know about his reactions to her by now? He knew he had the hots for her... hard not to know that, what with the way his body reacted to her—wasn't _that _what got them to where they were right now?—and the dreams he'd had on occasion. Wow, those dreams where just... not what he needed to think right now. So, that was the physical part. But not even allowing himself to go much deeper, he knew there was much more to it. Much, much more.

He also knew their friendship was rare, the kind that escaped the concepts of words. The bond was as strong as some of those he formed with a few men in his years in the military, but it also was something more. There was something in his relationship with Temperance that was different from every other relationship he had ever had... and that both intrigued and scared him.

Why? What was so different? What was really between them? Because he also knew he cared about her more than enough for it to be important how she was doing, to be with her for the joy of it and to make her understand she wasn't lonely anymore, to show her there were people always ready to be there for her, people that could be trusted, that liked her the way she was and that didn't think she was socially crippled, that didn't think her cold... to make her happy if she wasn't, to make her feel loved.

"Oh my God," he said to the darkness surrounding him.

The shock was so great he had to remind himself to breath. He drank what was left of the whiskey in his glass all at once and coughed a bit as a reaction to the alcohol. Then he sat motionless, afraid any movement would interfere with this new discovery.

_Loved?_, he thought. _Loved._

He loved her.

No wonder he'd messed things up. He was terrified by the extent of his love for her and that didn't speak too highly of him. He'd preferred to hide away his love for fear of... for fear of what? He knew she wasn't cold, she was just as afraid as he was. But he was the one that was supposed to be people-wise, the one who knew his own emotions truthfully.

But here he was, just realizing he loved his partner.

It was more than the hots, it was more than a friendship. It wasn't that it was different from those things; it meant his love encompassed those things and thus was much bigger. He had stubbornly been avoiding coming to that conclusion, thinking that she was the one not ready to let herself feel, blocking away his love and their potential together.

And now, because of that, he hadn't been able to deal with the consequences of what had happened in the closet and not only had he kissed her in a way that, though passionate, hadn't allowed for awareness and dexterity; he had also hurt her when she'd kissed him and he'd thought it was a bad idea.

Wasn't it ironic that by avoiding his feelings for fear of losing what they had he was about to achieve just that?

He felt horribly guilty. He'd kept thinking she wouldn't be ready, that nothing was worth the risk. But he couldn't lie to himself anymore: it had been he who hadn't been ready to accept what was inside him, masking it all in a pretense of doing it for her. He'd been a coward and all he'd gotten by that was doing to Temperance exactly what he'd sworn never to do. He'd failed her.

He held his head between his hands, his elbows on his knees, and prayed.

_Please... let it not be too late. Let me fix this mess I got us into. Help me be the man I've always wanted to be for her... Maybe I've failed and I don't deserve to be close to her anymore, but I'm willing to do whatever's necessary to be worthy of her in Your eyes._

He didn't receive an instantaneous answer, but he knew he would eventually. He only had to wait for the moment to arise, and he'd face his fears and fight his way through insecurities, relying on instinct alone... and faith. He'd make the most of it when the moment came...

He'd make sure he saved their friendship, taking everything never more than one step at a time. He'd find a way to get things back to normal and then, ever so slowly, find the answers they needed to find a balance between what they had and what they might have. They had to be sure, they had to be solid before taking such a step as a romantic relationship, because no matter how much he loved her—_Oh, God_, he thought, still not used to accepting it—the crucial point was not losing her.

Yes, they'd find a way to solve any problem they had to be together... as friends or otherwise. They'd discover how not to risk each other, how to make sure they had every right to be as close as they were. He'd be ready for it when the moment came.

Or when he made it happen.

He looked at the clock and saw it was 11pm. Late, but he'd gone to her house later than that.

He got up and took his jacket, having no problems to find it in the dark with his eyes accustomed to it. He put it on and checked his pockets, making sure he got everything he needed. He didn't know what he'd do or say once he was there, but it didn't really matter. All that mattered was seeing her and making sure it was not too late to save their friendship, so he'd have the time to convince her to consider a romantic relationship eventually, if it wasn't too risky.

He opened the door and was just about to run down the steps when he realized his way was blocked.

"Bones?" he choked. "What are you doing here?"

* * *

**Thank you all for your reviews and the many Story Alerts I've been notified of! I'm so happy this story (and its author... ahem) has been favorited! I'm just so glad this story's going even better than I thought it would for my first multichapter. Believe me, if it weren't because of it, because of you taking the time, I would have been off writing the 5 oneshots I have in store, lol!**


	10. Chapter 10

The cursor blinked repeatedly on the open document she had on her laptop, waiting for her typing to command new words for the chapter she was trying to write. But, as her hands lay still over the keyboard, nothing came to fill up the space.

She'd come home with the idea of working on her novel, thinking that maybe it'd be a good exercise to let herself calm down. But she simply couldn't do more than thinking about what she'd learned about herself that day.

As a start, she'd remembered how difficult it was to feel hurt and why she'd decided to hide it all deep within herself. It was just so much... feeling wasn't a smooth trip at all. But not feeling wasn't really easier, because it didn't mean she didn't actually feel; it was only that she didn't pay attention while limiting herself to burying her emotions somewhere deep inside. And now, as she allowed herself to dive into what she felt, she found that the experiences she'd encountered of late left her on the lower side of the mood-scale.

Well, that could be so. But she knew it was mathematically impossible to be like that forever. Eventually, something incredibly good would happen, and she hoped that 'something' would be good enough to help her find the balance. She had at least to give this experiment that chance. Otherwise, she'd miss half of what life had to give... just as she used to. She'd be back to being someone she didn't want to be anymore.

She knew that many people thought she was cold precisely because she didn't usually allow her feelings to arise. But she did feel... it was only that she didn't let it come to surface most of the times. And, as she risked doing exactly that because she thought it was worth it, she found she didn't really have guidelines to lead her.

Maybe Angela was right, and all she had to do now was take a chance when the person was right. Maybe she didn't have to be that open with everyone; perhaps she only had to train herself to feel this much with people she cared deeply about and that cared just as much back. The main obstacle would be learning to recognize _when_ the moment was right, and _when_ the person was right.

She was a genius, she could do that. She'd learn to read people and be open about her emotions when the person was right, and not only when she lost control.

Maybe Booth would help. Maybe that would help with Booth.

She could see it both ways.

Booth had been there for her on those occasions where she was so terrified she hadn't been able to help herself and had looked for his shoulder to rely on. He'd seen her cry and be nervous and afraid, and he still was there. He'd seen the parts of her she least liked, and he took it all in stride and stayed. In other words, he accepted that she wasn't perfect. So perhaps he'd accept her mistakes while she was learning to balance her overwhelming feelings and the appropriate responses to them. He even could teach her, just as he explained pop references to her. And if she learned to do that, she could find her way to a nice and full relationship with him.

She still wasn't used to the notion she wanted to be romantically involved with him. That was another thing she'd learned about herself during her discussion with her friend that day, and it left her breathless.

She could only wonder at how long it had taken her to realize she was more than just physically attracted to him. It had to be not only because she used to hide her feelings; she was sure it was all influenced by that line she was so sure existed no matter what between them. She'd hidden behind that line so as to not risk herself and their friendship, holding to it whenever she felt something not really partner-like.

And what was that? What did she feel about Booth?

She didn't know, and she wasn't sure she was ready to acknowledge it just yet. She was barely prepared to accept she wanted to be with him romantically—and that was a giant step for her. She'd never let herself think about a relationship when she wasn't sure the other was interested... ok, she knew Booth was interested in _some_ way. But she also knew how stubborn he could be and if he insisted on the line and the risks and all that, she could very well find herself frustrated and sad. And _that_ was something she'd never let herself risk.

But she was willing to risk it if it was Booth they were talking of. _That_ she could understand and work with. She'd consider being committed to a relationship with him, one in which they could both be who they were because that's what they both wanted from each other. She could believe they'd have something like that... if they managed to start something.

She closed the laptop, finally realizing she wouldn't have anything done that night. She got up and went to the kitchen to make herself some tea and try to relax, because she wouldn't be sleeping that night otherwise.

She put the electric water kettle on and prepared her tea leaves to make a relaxing infusion. If she wasn't able to talk to Booth soon to set her mind to peace, she'd make do with what she had within reach.

Or could she?

She looked at her microwave clock and saw it was 9:30. It was early enough to go to his home and see if they could talk things through. They had to talk about what had happened last night and what she felt was between them.

She turned the electric water kettle off and got her jacket and keys on her way out, promising she wouldn't think anymore until she got there, letting her heart go in full drive.

***

She parked her car and walked the short distance to his house, trying to discern his presence through the windows. She knew the fact his car wasn't there didn't really mean much, since he always parked it in the small garage next to his house.

She climbed the stairs to his door and looked for a light that would tell her of his presence in the house.

Everything was in darkness, so she could only guess he was still at work. He could be trying to keep himself busy, which would mean he could arrive anytime until midnight. She'd known him doing that. And she could only understand if he was doing that in their current situation.

So, he wasn't home. But she'd wait; it didn't matter how long it took him to get home, she'd be there, waiting to talk to him. And, unless the night grew too cold, she'd wait right there, on his steps, so there'd be no chance whatsoever of missing him on his way in.

She rested a hip against the rail and crossed her arms in front of her to keep herself as warm as she could. _Seeley Booth, please hurry_, she thought.

***

She didn't know how long she'd been there, but she'd bet it was more than an hour. She'd sat on the steps a while ago, thinking that the closest to a ball she got, the less cold she'd feel.

It was getting hard not to think. Before she'd left home she'd told herself she needed to let her heart open when she talked to Booth, because it was only that and the arguments she had thought of and what Angela had told her that held her chances to convince him it wasn't such a bad idea to start something together. All she'd allowed herself to do was thinking of what she'd already thought, as a way to see every angle possible.

But she felt herself weakening. She needed some kind of stimulation beyond the cold to focus on her feelings; if she wasn't feeling, how was she supposed to stop thinking? She was a genius, but she couldn't work miracles. She'd spent half her life pretending not to feel... she couldn't just change it all of a sudden.

But she'd try. She sure as everything would. She deserved it, her loved ones deserved it. And, if she was able to convince Booth that trying something out with her wasn't dangerous or that bad an idea at all, they both would deserve it.

She felt a worm of doubt for the first time since she'd come to the resolution of talking to him that same night. What she was about to do was so foreign to her that her defenses—her old defenses—managed to ask her if she was sure of what she was doing. She still had time to go back and think things over.

Just before she could answer herself, she heard the door to her back clicking open. She got up too surprised to be scared, turning to see the man she'd been waiting for stepping out the door.

"Bones... What are you doing here?"

* * *

**He heee...**

**There's only 2 chaps left. Next one will be up really soon! And something tells me you'll enjoy it...  
**

**Thanks to my beta, _Bailadora_. Her help has been great throughout this story!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Ready?**

**3... 2... 1-- GO!**

* * *

They stared at each other, both waiting for the other to make the first move.

But she was the one to take the lead. "Can I come in? It's really cold out here."

Her words got him into action. "Sure, Bones, come on in," he said as he motioned her towards the warmth of his home. He took his jacket off and left his keys on a nearby table. "Can I take your jacket?"

"No. Not yet. I'm cold."

He reached up to touch her cheek softly. "Geez, Bones, you're freezing! Come here," he said as he walked to his kitchen. "I bought some of that tea you like so much the other day, I'll make you a cup."

She followed him silently, more than a bit touched by the fact he had bought that tea. He was already turning the stove on, while preparing his french press to make some coffee.

"I had no idea you were out there, Bones," he said after a while. "Why didn't you knock?"

"I didn't know you were here. I didn't see any lights on and thought you were probably still at work," she said as she took her jacket off, warm enough now to wear only the sweater she had underneath.

"No, I was here, thinking... thinking," he amended. "I sometimes find it easier when the lights are turned off."

"I don't see how that would influence your cognitive function," she commented as she sat on a stool.

"It just does," he answered absently as he took the water before it boiled.

She noticed that, and was surprised he'd be so cautious as to remember coffee and tea would burn if you used boiling water on them.

He was so used to doing it that he didn't notice what he'd done. He was thinking about how much he wanted to ask her why she'd been there instead, but decided he better take his time. Something told him that conversation was going to be a long one.

He handed her the cup of tea and watched as she inhaled the aromatic vapor coming from it. "Should we go to the living room?"

"Ok," she said as she got up and walked to where the light switch was, leaving her jacket somewhere in the middle. After flicking it, she went to the couch and sat there, barely noticing the glass with two half melted ice cubes before he sat in front of her with his cup of coffee. She never thought twice about how comfortable she felt in his home.

They drank in silence a while, not looking at each other. Just as the silence grew too heavy, she spoke up.

"You were going out when you saw me out there."

It wasn't a question, and he didn't answer it as that. "I was going to see you," he said, looking at the dark pool of coffee in his hands.

Because of that, he missed the sharp look she sent him. "Really? Why?"

"I needed to talk to you."

It was as their eyes finally made contact that they remembered how it had been the last time they'd seen each other. They'd been kissing and he'd hurt her when he hadn't been able to be true to his feelings.

"What about?" she asked softly, her eyes glued to his.

"Us," he explained in the same manner.

Hearing him saying that was like oxygen to fire. She felt hopeful, because there was a chance he'd agree with her once she talked things through with him.

"And you, Bones? What were you doing at my door?"

Well, that was just a good a start as she could get. "I needed to talk to you," she smiled. "About us."

He remained silent, a soft smile on his lips as well, knowing she'd explain further.

She folded her legs under her and faced him, breathing deep to try to relax. _This is it_, she thought. _This is when I take the risk_.

"Booth, I..." she found she was still nervous, and that didn't please her at all. "This is not easy for me, you know?"

"Yeah, I know," he said reaching for her hand and squeezing, allowing that simple gesture to tell her he understood she was fighting against years of behavioral patterns.

Thankful, she squeezed back. And didn't let go. "What happened last night made me realize a few things. One is that we're... I'm in some kind of crisis. I'm being and doing things I never am or do, and that's confused me in a way I would have never thought I'd know how to manage. But I have, and I've come to some conclusions."

"Conclusions?" he helped when she didn't keep talking.

"I don't want to do all the talking," she said finally.

"Of course you wouldn't do all the talking _now_," he laughed. He raised their joined hands and intertwined their fingers, looking at them as if he could find the right words there. "This feels great, doesn't it, Bones? I think we've never held hands before."

Now it was her turn to wait.

"I have to say I'm sorry, Temperance. Last night I behaved really poorly. I should never have done that to you."

She noticed her heart skipped a beat at the way he'd said her name and, though her brain told her it was ridiculous and impossible, her heart felt like it was growing with hope by the second. And she enjoyed it.

He drank the last bit of the dark liquid and left his cup on the coffee table. Then, as she handed him her cup, he left it there too.

He took her hand now between both his, enjoying the feeling and the fact she wasn't pulling back. He didn't know where—exactly—they were going with this conversation, but he knew he had to be honest. And brave, for her.

"I've realized this all has happened because there's something between us we didn't know what to do with. Looking back, I think it all started that day we first worked together on the field, when we were on the firing range. I distinctly remember being really close to you, so defiant, telling me I was afraid of going for the senator. Did you feel it too, Bones? The... call? I did," he said, not waiting for her answer. "I was too close to kissing you. I was really close to acting on the pull I felt from you, but I said to myself that a little sexual heat between us and the partnership would be over even before it started. So I held myself in line. And have ever since."

She'd never had a problem with sex before. She'd never thought negatively of an exclusively sexual relationship until she thought that was all he was looking for with her. "I see," she said, her voice barely a whisper. Suddenly all her hopes seemed stupid.

"But then, as I got to know you, I felt the friendship build and you were too important to me to risk over sexual frustration," he smiled in a bittersweet manner. "You're just too important. You just are."

_Well, at least that can be a first step_, she thought. It had changed for her, it could change for him, too.

"So... You think of me as a friend you're sexually attracted to. Am I right, Booth?"

"What? No," he tried to explain, just to be interrupted by her again.

"It's ok, I understand. It's just that I can't help wishing you felt differently..." She squeezed his hand again, closing her eyes to muster as much strength as she could. She was just about to jump off a cliff because her heart told her to, risking the very thing she wanted in her life: the man in front of her.

Her eyes still closed, she didn't see the stunned expression he bore. He wanted to correct her, to tell her, to stop her—something, but before he could decide what he wanted to do, she spoke again.

"Do you think you could? Feel more for me than just that?"

He thought of all the things that could go wrong. He thought of their story together, of the rules the FBI had, of the many cons anything between them had.

But none of that mattered when he saw her baring her heart in front of him.

He knew her words weren't of undying love, that they were merely asking if there was more than friendship between them. He also knew what they really meant.

His whole self seemed to be vibrating with the love and admiration he felt for her in that moment. She'd opened a door through her walls to take the risk he hadn't been brave enough to take. And she deserved he at least tried to be that brave.

He lifted her face with a finger on her chin, trying to make her look at him.

When she did, she found that the answer she was sure he was about to give had the potential to make things turn in 180 degrees. It was so much she felt she no longer was safe trusting her feelings, not right this minute. It didn't matter that his face seemed to glow; it could be what she heard was called wishful thinking. She simply _had_ to make sure he'd considered a few more facts before giving his answer.

She got up quickly, looking down at him on the couch.

"Do you remember that line between us? If I am to trust Angela's view on the matter, which I should really do considering our respective skills, I would have to say that lines are meant to be crossed."

He sat back, a bit frustrated by her sudden escape, but enjoying the show nonetheless. "Would you?"

"Yes," she continued, not allowing him to go on. "You also said that people like us, who work in high risk situations every day, shouldn't be romantically involved. But I think there could be a lot of things that could separate us that we don't have control of. What about another bullet? Another Gravedigger? A car crash? We already care too much for each other for it to matter whether we're together or not. Wouldn't it be better to try? If we're going to have to break it at some point, wouldn't it be better if it was because we were trying to make it better for us?"

He didn't think he could ever love her more.

She was trying to _logically_ convince him to try something with her.

"I know you may not feel more than sexually-charged friendship for me right now, but I think you can feel differently. I know _I_ started to feel differently. So maybe we could start going out to try different scenarios, so we could give this a chance. I decided to have hope because I think we're worth it. But if you don't right now, I'm willing to wait. Because, as I said before, I think we're worth it. I _know_ we're worth it."

He got up and took the step that made them finally stand close together.

"Can I say something? I've been trying and waiting to say something for a long while now," he said softly, a light smile on his lips.

"Yes," she replied tilting her head so she could look into his eyes. She didn't notice she sounded breathless.

He took her face between his hands, caressing her skin with his thumbs. He looked at her lips, just a bit open, already colored by her passionate speech. He ran a finger over them, which made her shiver. He smiled, and decided to change tactics.

"Guess I'll show you instead," he said with a husky voice. "Just pay attention, Bones. Pay careful attention."

She was sure the earth was trembling. She suddenly could feel the way it rotated on its axis at... some speed she knew she once knew.

Geez, could this man kiss.

She surrounded his neck with her arms and pressed herself to him. She only could feel _him_... but she wanted more of that. She wanted as much _him_ as she could get_._

He poured every bit of himself into the kiss. He wanted to show her in the way his lips, teeth and tongue played hers how much he really cared.

Because he cared.

She could feel it now. It didn't matter her brain tried one last time to tell her about impossibilities... the way he was kissing her, holding her, was a promise for more. It told her about certainties. Told her that what she wished would exist between them one day was already there.

She felt the loss of his lips on hers acutely. She opened her eyes indignantly, ready to demand for more. But he was looking at her in a way that requested she tried and listened to him.

So, she did.

"Temperance... I won't lie to you. I'm afraid. I'm terrified things won't work between us. But I have faith in us; I believe we can sort everything out. We just have to be willing to take the risk." He ran his fingers through her hair, savoring the sensation he had never allowed himself to fully achieve. "I know you're brave, you've just shown me how strong you are. I admire you so much I can only hope to be worthy of you. But if you're willing to give us a chance, we can make this work. I really think we can. I don't know how yet, but we will."

"I know," she replied, feeling like herself again. Knowing he wanted to try to be with her left her confident. They'd always made a good team; she didn't see why in this it'd be different. "We'll just take one step at a time."

He kissed her again, marveling at his ability to do so. "I like your way of thinking," he said. "And I have to say, I'm pleasantly surprised at your speech. You thought it through, huh?"

"Well, of course I would. I may be opening my feelings when it matters; it doesn't mean I'll stop being me," she answered, tucking her head in his neck while he rocked them a bit. He smelled so good. Like trust.

"I wouldn't want you to change. I like you just the way you are. But was it all your thinking?"

"Maybe," she said, a little indignantly.

He laughed and took her hand, leading her to where her jacket laid. "Remind me to thank Angela for her part in this."

She saw him take her jacket and hold it for her to put it on. "What are you doing?"

"If you don't go home right now I might not be able to stop myself from taking you to bed tonight, and I want to wait a bit," he said as he tried to take her arm inside the piece of clothing.

"But I don't have a problem with the idea of going to bed tonight," she replied trying to resist him. "I do have a problem with waiting, though. The way you just kissed me—"

He kissed her again, unable to stop himself, taking her by the nape of the neck. "Bones, stop. Put your jacket on and go home. Let me suffer a bit tonight wishing you were with me, and think about me being with you. Believe me, it'll be worth it."

Fuming a little bit in sexual frustration, she finally took her jacket and put it on. "Ok, I will. Just because I'm willing to try new ways of maintaining a relationship."

"I'll take you to your car," he said while she kept talking, leading her out with a hand on the small of her back.

"Relationships have anthropological meaning," she continued as if he hadn't said a thing. "And emotional meaning too. Now I can see it. Thus, it's only logical I accept the fact I might need to try things I've never tried before to make sure ours is successful. Because I assume we're in a relationship now, right?"

They reached her car, and he boxed her against it. Not pressing her against it, just not allowing her a way out.

"You bet."

His proximity was alluring. She kissed him passionately. "You sure we want to wait?"

"Don't tempt me, Bones."

"Ok, ok," she said as she got in the car, opening the window to talk to him as he came closer to her. "And what now? What do we do now that we're together?"

"I think we've been together for long. I don't really think there'll be many things changing. But whatever it is, we'll solve it."

"We will. Good night, Booth."

He kissed her softly one more time. "Good night. See you tomorrow."

He saw her drive away, reveling in the notion of how things had changed.

And already cursing himself for thinking waiting was a good idea.

* * *

**Hee heeee**

**Only Booth could think that was a good idea!**

**I really, really hope you liked that. I know I enjoyed writing it. Definitely writing this kind of thing is what I like the most.  
**

**Wonder what can happen in the last chapter... *devilish grin***

**Thank you, _Bailadora_!**


	12. Chapter 12 Epilogue

**And here we go: the final chap. This long epilogue closes this first cycle, and part of it will be the prologue of the Sequel. I'll be posting it a little later tonight, and it'll be called "Let your Heart Speak", just in case any of you is interested in putting it on alert. I'm not sure how soon I'll be updating it again, though, since I'm planning on writing some other stuff too. But shouldn't be *that* long since I'm inspired, lol. I'm posting it so you all know there IS a sequel planned!**

**Anyway, I wanted to thank _Bailadora_ once again for betaing this story. Without her, my english would have sounded weird at times! **

**One last thing: please note the RATING CHANGE. Now it's M!!**

**Now, you can read :o)  
**

* * *

Driving to the Jeffersonian felt like driving on auto pilot. That was good, because his mind was too busy berating him to try to put some effort into driving.

He'd barely slept the night before. He'd gotten what he wanted, and he had suffered. The problem was, he'd suffered much more than he thought he would.

Having kissed Bones thoroughly seemed to have destroyed the already thin dam holding his need for her. He'd tossed and turned all night, trying to sleep—to only have dreams of being with her but never really _being_ with her.

He should have known better: it had been years suppressing those needs when she was involved. He thought that waiting a bit would make them expectant, and in being expectant they'd register every touch and caress and whisper and sigh... he never thought he'd already waited four long, long years.

He needed to see her. Urgently.

–--

When he got to her office he saw Angela was there talking with Bones. He rested his shoulder on the door jamb, never thinking twice about eavesdropping. After all, he was sure they were talking about what had happened the night before.

But she saw him standing there immediately. As if she was tuned to him.

She just stared at him and said nothing. Angela, noticing this change in her friend, turned to see what had caused it and, seeing it was Booth, got up, crossed her arms and smirked.

"I'd say something clever," she said. "But you'd be expecting that. So I'll just leave you two alone and go to my office and imagine the details all by myself, because _she_ does not understand her duties as my best female friend and share every dirty detail."

As Angela passed him, she patted his arm and winked lewdly.

"Guess you told her?" he asked as he walked towards her and sat on the couch.

"I could hardly _not_ tell her. Not only would she have known just by looking at us, she deserved that after being there for me yesterday morning. I did ask her not to tell anyone, though."

He raised his eyebrows, knowing he would have been hurt if he didn't know the problems the thankfully current changes in their relationship could bring. "You want to keep this," he said as he moved his hand between them, "secret?"

"Don't you?" she asked, confused.

"No, I don't. I mean, I agree we have to act professional; that's the only reason why I didn't kiss you blind when I came in."

"That's not possible. There's no report stating you can go blind by kissing."

"Care to bet?" he said, his voice suddenly husky.

"I... well..." she frowned, confused. Had she really run out of words? "Look. That's not the point now. I agree we have to act professional, but aren't you afraid the FBI will sever our partnership? That would most certainly upset me, Booth."

He was really glad to hear that. "That would most certainly upset _me_, too, Bones. But I don't want to hide, just as I don't want the FBI to separate us. I want to be able to kiss you if I feel like it when we're not working. What are the odds we'll be caught? I can't imagine us prone to excessive public displays of affection, anyway. And the looks and all the other showing stuff... well, I'm afraid everyone's used to them. There's a reason why they all thought we were already dating."

"So why did you tell me the FBI wouldn't like us together?"

"Because they won't. Look, you were right last night," he said as he looked around and, seeing no one was even close to be paying attention to them, reached for her hand to hold it, running his thumb over her knuckles. "We already care too much for each other for it to really matter whether we're together or not when it comes to the reasons the FBI has for not allowing romantic relationships between their employees. But even though they suspected we were together, and I've been teased to no end about it, I never was required to explain a thing to Cullen. And I'm sure he heard the rumors and if he didn't do anything then, I'm hoping he won't do anything now. After all, he wouldn't want to break up his most successful team, right?"

"You know I'm letting you hold my hand out of novelty, right? And because no one can see us."

He rolled his eyes, not letting go. "Anyway, the point is: I don't think our relationship will change much in the other's eyes. I'm thinking it'll change when we're alone together, though. In fact, I'm counting on it," he finished.

"Not secret, then. Just private," she said trying to ignore the sudden heat that the images his last words had produced. "Just like us."

"Exactly," he replied, his eyes glued to hers, the electricity growing exponentially between them.

"Tell me again why you wanted to wait last night? I'm feeling incredibly frustrated about that now," she asked with a voice so smoky with desire he almost had to groan.

Almost.

"Jesus, Bones. We can't talk about that here. Or I won't be able to stop myself."

"Is that a warning?"

"Yeah."

She shivered. And he noticed.

"Ok," he breathed out as he got up, suddenly very thankful he'd chosen boxers that were fit enough to conceal, sort of, his problems. "I must be really out of my head for thinking coming to see you would help me. I'm leaving even more frustrated now."

She had to clear her voice. What was happening to her? "We can always run for a _fastie_ in either one of our places..."

"Quickie, Bones. And no, we're not going to do that, because when I make love to you, Temperance, we're gonna have the time to do it right. Just think about that," he added as he walked out of her office, stopping at the door to look at her one last time. "Kiss, Bones. 'Til I can kiss you for real."

She saw him leaving her office and remained sat there on her couch, still surprised at her reactions to him.

He'd only been there with her for about ten minutes and she'd been ready to jump him.

She'd always had a strong libido, but there was something in the way she felt now she didn't recognize in herself. She wondered if it was the effect Booth had on her or if she'd always had it there and never paid attention to it. Either way, she was sure it was some kind of emotion.

She was just deciding what a logical approach would be to understand and dissect that new feeling in her when she heard steps that sounded too much like Booth's coming to her office.

She turned towards her door just in time to see him crossing it, clapping his phone shut.

"Get your things, Bones. There's a crime scene that needs our attention."

***

As the doors of the elevator closed in front of them, he knew he had to ask a very important question.

"Bones?" he whispered close to her ear. "Do you know if there're cameras in here?"

She turned to pierce his eyes with her own.

"Yes, there are."

She didn't need to ask why he'd asked. She had a very clear image of what they could have done if there'd been no risk—for as long as the five floors it took for them to get to the parking lot.

They didn't utter another word. When the doors opened again, they walked to the car quickly, the adrenaline in their blood pushing them for velocity... it seemed the only safe way to spend some of the frustration away.

But it simply wasn't enough.

As soon as they were inside the car, they both jumped to reach the other as if their lives depended on it. At least that's how they felt, needing to prove their relationship had in fact changed and they still had the same spark they'd had the night before. Needing to make sure it wasn't just a dream.

Knowing they were protected by the tinted glass of the windows and the relative solitude of the parking lot, they clung to each other, fisting clothes and kissing in a desperate way only years of deprivation could cause.

She maneuvered and contorted until she could straddle him on his seat. He didn't find that to be a bad idea, completely forgetting about his resolution on making it right as soon as he felt her close. He simply kept kissing her lips, her neck, her chest... only to realize her blouse was a serious obstacle.

She rested on the steering wheel to give him access while he undid the buttons as fast as his nimble fingers could, still surprised by what was happening between them. It wasn't easy to change the do's and don'ts of their relationship in such a sudden way, but it was oh so pleasurable.

Just as he had her blouse open and began to kiss his way over her sternum, they heard his cell phone ring.

"Jesus," he let escape as he was startled out of his actions. He reached for his phone and answered. "Booth."

She saw him take whatever he was hearing in and look at her with incredible regret. As he mumbled his replies to whoever was talking to him, he used his free hand to do her buttons up again, gently arranging her clothes back to decency.

Feeling just as much despair as she sensed in her partner, she ran her fingers through his hair, resting her forehead on his just as he hung up the phone.

"Later, Temperance. We're gonna do this later, and we're gonna do it right," he whispered with a mix of aggravation, resolution and relief.

She kissed him softly and sat back on her own seat.

"Ok, Booth. But this time, we better _do it_."

***

Several hours later, Temperance opened the door to her apartment and waited until Booth got in with the boxes of take out he was carrying. She saw him take it to the coffee table as she went to her kitchen and began gathering what they'd need.

The day had been exhausting. After they'd sent the body and soil samples to the lab, they'd gone from place to place interviewing witnesses, then the family, and then the first suspects. Booth was already sure who the murderer was; they only needed the final forensic evidence and they'd have a solid case.

The way the case had fluently come to a near close had allowed them to ignore the constant vibe of want they both felt clearly. It seemed their bodies couldn't forget the promises made with kisses and touches and were begging for more.

She was glad she could be sure he was just as expectant as she was. He had been thinking of that during the day too, otherwise he wouldn't have asked her about contraception when driving from one place to another. In a sense she was thankful he'd asked, because it had helped to discuss the matter in a calmed manner and not in a half-dazed way when just about to have sex. He'd said he always thought "it kinda killed the mood" and, after discussing ITSs and their certainty they were good and that she already was using a contraceptive method, they'd decided that would be enough.

But in another sense, there was something bothering her about it, and she didn't know what.

They had only been together for a day, and she'd already found it difficult to understand herself twice. And that was very exasperating.

If it wasn't so important to her and so challenging at the same time, she would have already given a step back and dissolved the little they had so far. She would have, if she didn't think that even though strange and difficult, what they were starting together had the potential of being a wonderful thing.

He came to the kitchen to help her take the glasses and paper napkins to find her standing still in the middle of the room, deep in thought.

"What's wrong?" he questioned, touching her face.

She took his hand with her own to keep it there and looked him in the eye.

"Is it strange for you too, Booth? The fact we're together?"

He couldn't help himself. He hugged her.

She couldn't help herself. She let him hug her, resting her face and hands on his chest.

"Well," he started, "it is kinda strange. So much time holding back to suddenly be allowed to kiss you?" he kissed her. "It is strange. But a great kind of strange..."

"Yes, I must concede on that. It does feel good to kiss you," she said, smiling.

He smiled back and kissed her. And couldn't help but keep kissing her, deepening it.

He surrounded her face with his hands and changed the angle of the kiss, playing his tongue over hers, velvet to velvet. He ran his fingers through her hair, her neck, her shoulders, following the path of her arms until he joined his hands with hers over his chest.

Sucking in her lips, he took her hands and surrounded himself with them over his waist, so she'd hug him while he caressed her back and kissed her on the lips, her jaw, her neck, her earlobe...

As she began to lose herself in sensations, she didn't notice her breath quickening, or the gasp she let escape with the last kiss he placed.

But he did. And made a quick decision.

"Food later," he said as he lifted her off her feet and carried her to the bedroom.

"I can walk, you know," she replied as she began kissing him wherever she could reach.

"I know," was all he muttered as he fell to the bed with Temperance on top, the mattress crying in protest at their mixed weight. He marveled at the feeling of her on top of him for a moment, to then roll swiftly to be on top of her.

He looked at her tenderly; the way her hair was sprawled around her face like a halo, the slight smile she bore. "I can't believe this is finally happening."

"It hasn't happened yet, but it would if you stopped talking."

He laughed. "You're right. I'm sorry for the interruption."

"You're forgiven," she whispered as she touched his shoulders and down his back, until she reached the hem of his t-shirt so she could take it off.

He got up a little to help her and then descended on her to undo the last couple of buttons of her blouse, placing open-mouthed kisses on the skin that appeared under it. Following the path as he undid all of the buttons, he let his lips roam over the swell of her breasts that could be seen over her bra, then clasped her nipple softly with his teeth through the cloth.

He heard her gasp again and felt her hands fall on his head, encouraging him. He moved to her other nipple and, wetting the nub with his mouth, he sucked on it. Then, hooking his finger on the bra, freed her breast from it.

He was licking her nipple. He was teasing Temperance's nipple with his tongue, feeling her response in the way she increased the pressure of her fingers on his skull and arched her back. He was sucking her nipple, and couldn't help but revel at what was finally happening between them.

Whatever Booth was doing with his tongue on her made her every nerve stand on end, preparing for his assault, all of her blood rushing to her skin and center in increasing speed as her heart pumped much faster than it usually did.

She led his face back to hers to kiss him passionately as she pushed him back to be on top of him. He quickly got rid of her blouse and bra and as he felt her breasts pressing down on his chest, his hands went down her sides wandering and teasing softly to then grasp her hips and ass.

"Mhh... you feel as nice as I thought you would, Bones," he said as she began to go over him with her lips.

She kissed, licked, bit her way down his chest, taking her time as if discovering every groove and muscle was crucial, until she reached his belt buckle.

She saw the way the cloth was straining with his erection and smiled.

"Why are you smiling? You know that's really not good for a guy's ego," he said teasingly.

She looked at him as she began undoing the belt buckle. "You don't have to worry. It was a smile of appreciation. Although I seriously suspect you said that to prompt me to compliment you."

He laughed and raised his hips so she could take his pants off.

"I'm taking the 5th on tha—Oh my God."

She was closing her mouth on him through his underwear, doing pretty much the same he had done to her nipples. Wetting and sucking included. And judging by the sounds he was making, he was enjoying it too.

Some moments later, just as greedy for skin as he was, she hooked her fingers on his boxer briefs and took them off. Letting them fall to the floor, she stood in front of him and looked at his naked body on her bed.

Seeley Booth was naked on her bed. And she couldn't help but revel at the thought.

She would have expected him to say something cocky like 'you like what you see?' but instead he let her look at him patiently, a slight smile on his lips. As their eyes connected, though, he sat on the bed close to her and kissed her belly, her ribs and the underside of her breasts while taking her pants and underwear off. Once naked in front of him, he let his hands roam and touch over what had been forbidden territory only two days earlier.

"Ah, Temperance... Temperance," he said with his voice so full of love and admiration she felt her eyes prickle with moisture. She knew if it hadn't been Booth to cause that reaction in her, she would have been mad. But, as it was in fact her partner, her friend, her lover... she allowed herself to feel. And she found she understood why they said you could feel yourself about to burst with emotions.

She kissed him and let him take her back down on the bed. Looking directly into her eyes, he positioned himself between her legs, center to center, both conscious of this first intimate touch skin to skin. He rested his weight on an elbow while the other hand wandered down her side and leg, grabbing her knee to bring it up his side.

Still intently looking at each other, she followed his lead and locked her ankles behind him, using this position as leverage to move her hips in circles against his.

She saw his eyes cloud with the sensation, both breathing faster as the stimulation caused their bodies to buzz with increasing passion. He started moving his hips, rubbing himself on her clit and driving them both half mad.

She closed her eyes, forgetting herself in the feeling.

"No, look at me," he pleaded. She did. "Keep looking at me."

She took his face between her hands and looked at him with love she couldn't yet name. "I will, Booth. I will."

When their ragged breath and her clutching hands told him of their readiness, he stopped for a moment and then allowed the tip of his member to touch her entrance. He didn't move, letting her press her hips against him by the leverage she still had to join them a bit more. Then, ever so slowly, he slid himself into her.

"Ahh," she sighed at the flawless fit of their bodies connected, fighting a bit to keep her eyes open in the overwhelming feeling.

"Bliss," he said, moved out of eloquence by the unbelievable... _harmony_ of the situation. "Just perfect."

He started to move, setting a slow pace at first and quickening as the sensations grew by the rocking of their hips together.

She couldn't think. For the first time in her life she found herself at loss of thoughts... but she didn't miss it. She was mystified by the way her body answered to his, the way his back moved and strained under her hands, by the way he was looking at her. This man, this loyal and trustful man was making love to her. And the way that concept made her feel was a thousand times better than any thought she didn't try to grasp.

Moans and sighs and groans accompanied the building of their climax, until the pressure adding up by the moment seemed unbearable. He knew he was close, and if the way her muscles clutched him inside her was any indicator, she was close too.

That's what mattered to him right there and then. To know she was feeling as good as he was feeling.

Because there, with him, was the woman he loved. And he intended to show her with actions what he still couldn't say with words.

He changed the angle of the way he entered and that was what all it took for her oversensitive receptors to explode. She bucked under him and clutched him so hard he could barely move anymore. Her whimper of pleasure rang in his ears and took him over suddenly, groaning as he emptied himself into her, both surprised by the sudden explosion capturing them and the unfathomable depths of sensations running _in_ them and _between_ them.

Their eye contact never broke.

***

They sat on her couch, finally having dinner.

"You really think our relationship won't change much, Booth?" she asked as she took another bite out of the box.

He looked at her and smiled. He hadn't seemed to keep himself from smiling for the past half hour. "No, I don't think it'll change much. At least in the other's eyes."

"Yes, you said something about that. You mentioned that if everyone thought we were already together there had to be a reason for it, and that whatever made them think that would still be there between us."

"Yeah. The looks, the small touches... that won't change. But here, in the privacy of our homes?" he signaled himself, wearing only his boxer briefs and her, wearing a spaghetti strap tank and her panties. "Here, we're different." his eyes were caught on her breasts, naked under the shirt. "Thank God."

"They're just mammary glands, you know"

"Mh-hm," he looked at her, his eyes full of mischief. "I'm sure that's what you were thinking about when I was paying them the attention they deserve."

She laughed. "It's not fair to hold it against me if I was driven by biological imperatives."

"You do know you're saying that only as a defense, right? You can't tell me you didn't feel that what we did was much more than just biology. I know you did."

She looked at him, the way he was looking back seriously, waiting for an answer. And knew he was right. She'd felt it, and if she'd decided she'd allow herself to feel if it was with Booth, so she would.

She gave in to the impulse to kiss him. "Yes, I felt it. It's just that the bridge between acknowledging something and actually acting on it doesn't seem to be a smooth passage to me. But I promise I'll get better at it."

"It's ok, Bones," he reached for her hand and kissed it, looking into her eyes once more. "I'm glad you're learning to talk about your feelings, and I'll help you with that. But I don't need you to change who you are. I'll take you for the whole you you are."

"You know I'm not good with relationships, Booth. But I'll do my best."

"I'm thinking you're better than you realize. I've seen you invested in a relatively successful relationship before. There's no need to remember names or such," he added wistfully. "But the way you were with him wasn't anything like the cold image of you other so called _boyfriends_ made you believe you give."

"You mean Sully?" she asked genuinely confused.

"Geez, Bones," he replied as he went back to his food. "Told you not to name him, right? It wasn't a nice experience seeing you with him, no need to bring him to memory, you know? It's more than enough to know he existed to expect me to take it graciously now."

"I don't understand. I know of Tessa and Rebecca, not to mention Cam. I still have to work with her and I'm not complaining."

"It's different, Bones."

"Why? Because of your alpha-male tendencies?"

"No," he said, starting to feel exasperated. "Because... Tessa and Becca, well... you know why. And Cam, she's my friend. Our relationship was just... We tried to be something we're not. We're friends, not a couple. I guess we were lonely. And in my case I was also frustrated as hell, you know?"

"I'm still not convinced."

"Convinced of what? What am I supposed to be convincing you of?"

"I don't know, you talked about him in the first place."

"All right. I did. But all I wanted to say was that you're a better partner that you give yourself credit for. And that I like you just the way you are. That's all."

"Or maybe you just don't know the answer."

He looked at her, trying to convey with his eyes he wanted the conversation done.

"I'm just trying to understand! Don't look at me that way. I just want to know, so we can make this work. If I understand, if I can define some kind of guidelines I'd feel much more comfortable."

The anger and confusion fled as if they had never been there, to be replaced with infinite tenderness.

He got close to her on the couch and managed to hold her close.

"There are no guidelines to a relationship, Temperance. Just think that no matter what, we're gonna make this work. That's all that matters. That we're both in it with all our might. The rest, it can be solved," he whispered as he kissed her lips, her jaw, and where the neck meets the shoulder.

"I can see that. We will," she replied as all her worries disappeared in his certainty and his kisses.

"Yeah, Bones," he said, his voice husky with renewed passion as he lowered her on the couch. "We'll make sure of that."

As they kissed and touched and discovered each other, she realized there was no danger in believing him. Hope had brought her to this time, to him, and hope could take them to the next level.

Because just as her brain told her it was too soon to even begin to wonder what the nature of what they had was, her heart was singing with knowledge.

And the song had words of love.

_**FIN**_


End file.
